Let the Flames Begin
by empresskris
Summary: Part ll. Sequel to It's Just a Spark. It might be best to read that first. Although, you don't have to! With Quinn joining forces alongside Santana and the Rebellion, will they have what it takes to stop the Militia once and for all?
1. Chapter 1

**Part ll.**

_"What a shame we all became such fragile, broken things._  
_A memory remains just a tiny spark._  
_I give it all my oxygen,_  
_To let the flames begin_  
_So let the flames begin..."_

-Paramore

* * *

**QUINN'S POV**

"So seriously. Why are you here? I don't think it's because you missed seeing my face." Will looks down at the stew but doesn't make a move to eat it. I lean back in my chair with a sigh. I think I know what this is about. The recent buzz surrounding the war hasn't gone unnoticed. Not even this far out. "If this is about me rejoining the war - "

"It's about Santana," Will interjects.

I feel my body tense and my stomach tighten at the mention of her. "What about her?" I look at Blaine who is watching me carefully and then to Will as he slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine.

"She's alive."

The air leaves my lungs in one big woosh. My heart beats wildly in my chest as it feels like the entire world has come to a sudden stop. "What?" I finally manage. "But… how?"

Will folds his hands neatly on top of the table as if he's conducting a business meeting rather than turning my world upside-down. "After the Militia's retreat, most of the Rebels went home. Just as we did. We had some men stay behind for clean-up. You know, to burn the dead and to chase off any Raiders or lingering Militia." He pauses to look at Blaine. "But there aren't just Raiders living near the mountains. There are scavengers too."

"You're talking about vultures," I say dismissively, trying to understand how exactly this pertains to Santana.

Will flinches at my choice of words. "We don't call them _vultures_," he tries to correct.

I roll my eyes. "That's what they are. Vultures. Coming along after a war and stealing from the dead. They're as bad as Raiders."

"That's how they live, Quinn. They're foragers. In order to survive - "

I hold up my hand. "I'm not fighting with you about this right now! Just tell me what this has to do with Santana."

Will gives me a pointed look. "A _scavenger _came across her just outside of the blast zone. She was barely alive. She wasn't conscious or responsive. The scavenger saw the marking on her arm and managed to get Santana back to her house."

"Before or after she looted her?" I say disgustedly.

"Quinn - "

"But how could she be alive?" I change the subject just as quickly. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Will admits with a sigh.

I push myself up from the table and take a few steps into the main room, away from the kitchen. I need a little bit of space right now. I reach under my shirt for the key on the chain around my neck and I grip it tightly in my hand. My mind spins in circles, going through different scenarios for what could've happened and how she could've survived. It just doesn't seem possible.

I turn back to face them. "You said she was down there when the tunnels blew. That she had to stay behind to detonate."

"She did," Will says.

"Then I don't understand," I continue. "I saw the landslide. I saw what fell on top of the tunnels, on top of the entrance. We all saw it. There's no way anyone could survive that, right? She would've been…" She would've been, what? Trapped? Crushed? Suffocated?

Will slowly stands from table and watches as I anxiously pace back and forth. "The truth is, we don't know what happened down there after we lost radio contact. The only person who can answer that is Santana."

"How can you be sure it's her? What if this is just a ploy by my father to draw me out of hiding?"

"After the girl got Santana someplace safe, she went back out to the battlefield looking for someone to notify. Santana was alive and she felt the Rebellion should know. Lucky for us, this girl had a previous run in with Jake." I arch my brow but Will continues. "So she went to him. Jake confirmed it that it was Santana and immediately left for Arlington to come find me."

It still all seems so unreal. Santana barely alive and found by a vulture. "When was this? When was she found?"

"About two weeks ago. I set out immediately for Blaine and sent Ryder back with Jake to keep an eye on the situation." Will hesitates slightly. "To make sure no one finds her there."

I run my hand through my hair as I try to settle my anxiety. "Why didn't you go to her? Why didn't you try and take her someplace safe? Why did you come here?"

Will exchanges a look with Blaine. I roll my eyes, growing annoyed with their silent way of communicating. "It was safer this way. We didn't want to risk a courier delivering news like this."

I know instantly that he's right. The less people who know about this right now the better. "If the Militia knew she was still alive, they'd send whatever's left of the army after her and finish the job."

Will nods. "Plus, Blaine didn't want you to hear it from anyone else. He thought you should be the one making the decisions regarding Santana."

Blaine gives me a small smile. I appreciate the gesture, even if it does frustrate me that they'd choose to come here instead of personally making sure Santana is safe. I think a lot of that has to do with this insane amount of guilt starting to build up within me at leaving her there.

I do my best not to linger on the guilt as a million questions race through my mind. But only one seems to repeat itself over and over and over again. I don't voice it instantly, fearing the answer. But the need to know eventually outweighs my fear. "How bad is she?"

Will looks down at the table and shakes his head. "I don't know. When Jake found me, she was still unconscious. The girl who found her said it didn't look good but that she'd do her best to keep her safe and alive."

My heart sinks at the reality that I might be getting my hopes up for nothing. That right now, as we speak, Santana could very well be dead and we'd have no way of knowing. That the vulture how found her could just as easily let her die. I push the thought aside. I can't think that way. I refuse to.

I walk towards the window as I try to settle all of my pessimistic thoughts. I stare out at the land in front of the house as the sun sets behind the trees. "I want to see her," I say quietly.

"Quinn," Will says hesitantly behind me. "Santana is in really bad shape. From what Jake tells me, she has a fever, a broken leg, broken ribs, a head wound, and who knows what else."

I close my eyes as Will lists her injuries. "She can heal from that," I tell him seriously.

"She's been unconscious for days. She might still be unconscious. Her body is broken. She's fighting an infection and last I heard it didn't seem likely that her fever would break. And if her body can't rid itself of the infection, then I doubt it can heal all its breaks." I shake my head. I don't want to hear it. But Will continues. "We didn't tell anyone else because we don't know if she'll pull through. It's likely that she won't. But in case she does make it, in case she is fighting…"

"Your fiancé will want to know you're safe," Blaine says as Will's voice fades.

I turn to look at him, his choice of words catching me off guard. His cheeks redden instantly, embarrassed by his choice of words. Will arches his brow, looking from Blaine to me curiously. I turn back to the window with a sigh.

"I just wanted to you know what you're walking into before making any decisions," Will says gently.

"How long from here? A week?" I ask.

"Approximately. Depending on the weather and Raiders and other unforeseen events."

"A week or more," I say to myself. It suddenly hits me that I might be able to see her again. After all the time I spent struggling to make peace with… My stomach flips as I realize how very different things could be for me now. For us.

Once again, I feel my hopes starting to rise. I try not to get overly excited. There's no way of knowing if she'll survive. It's coldhearted, I realize, but for the moment, the pessimism will hopefully allow me to stay more focused than I would be otherwise.

I've already had to deal with her death once. Am I ready to face it again at the chance of her possibly being alive?

Absolutely.

Blaine and Will are watching me carefully. "You two better eat up and get your rest. I want to set out before the sun rises."

Until then I need something to distract myself. So I give them a quick look before walking outside to finish repairing the roof while there's still daylight.

* * *

By the time the night gives way into morning, I hear the boys rummaging around and I let out a sigh of relief. I get out of bed, throw on a clean pair of clothes and tie my boots. Reaching for the bags I packed before I fell into bed the night before I leave my temporary bedroom behind.

I make my way through the house in the dark, the only light coming from the fireplace in the kitchen. I drop my bags off at the front door, nodding towards Will as he walks in from outside.

I'm grateful for the hot coffee Blaine pours into my mug as Will takes the bags to load onto the horses. I bring my hand to cover my yawn as I pull the mug towards me, inhaling the strong aroma. I barely got any sleep. If I slept for a total of two hours, I'd be surprised. My mind refused to shut off as it played through scenario after scenario.

Would Santana be awake when we got there? Would she be unconscious? How bad of a shape would she be in? Would she be alive? Or would we have to turn right back, once again defeated and shattered?

I close my eyes and take a sip, not caring that it burns my tongue. It's early. So early. I need the caffeine. When my eyes open I see Blaine watching me closely. "You okay?" I ask him, taking in his apprehensive expression.

"This whole thing makes me nervous," he says with a timid smile.

"Yeah, me too," I admit. We sip our coffee in silence, the only sound coming from the cracks and pops of the small fire in the kitchen. "Do you think that she's…? Do you think that she's still…?" I glance at Blaine, hoping he understands what I'm trying to say.

"She stays because she still has hope." He reaches out and lightly touches my arm. "She stays for you."

I want to believe him. I want to believe that Santana is hanging on for the people she loves, hanging on for me. But a part of me can't help but think that, if that were true, she wouldn't have detonated the bombs inside of the tunnel to begin with. That she wouldn't have taken that risk. That she would've found another way.

Blaine and I both look up as Will walks back in. "We're all set," he says, pulling the scarf down from this face. "You two ready?"

I down the rest of my coffee in long gulps before I take one last look around the building that has become my home over the past few weeks. I wonder if I'll ever see this place again or if I'll merely be returning in a matter of weeks. Alone.

Next to the fire is a bucket full of water. I dump the contents out over the fire, extinguishing the flames and casting the house into darkness.

* * *

We reach a small village that Will indicates as being the halfway mark. A place called Grove City. There's still daylight and I'm anxious to continue on.

But it's only gotten colder the further we travel. Sleeping out under the open sky in flimsy tents was bearable a few days ago, but now, our tolerance is wearing thin. Will seems pretty insistent that we find a place to stay here. And as much as I want to fight the thought of any further stops, I do begrudgingly agree that it's for the best.

After leading our horses to the community stables, we head directly for the tavern, nestled dead center in the town. I'm surprised to admit how very ready I am for a hot meal and the chance to sit and relax, even for a few minutes.

From the sounds of it, the tavern is busy. Will leads us up the steps. Curiously, I see him step inside at nod his head at something.

When I step in behind him, I'm more than surprised to see Ryder in the back of the room. He motions us over to his table. I have the strange urge to shake his hand as we reach the table, glad to see a friendly face. But I settle for a nod instead.

"Been here long?" Will asks as we drop our bags beside the table.

"I got in late last night," Ryder says, motioning towards the girl behind the counter for more drinks. "You all have rooms. Here are the keys," he says handing us each a room key. Mine is labeled "6".

Will slips off his jacket and places it on the back of his chair. "Run into any trouble?"

"There's a new Raider camp that popped up right on the trail. Might delay us a few hours to go around it," Ryder says. "How about you?"

"No trouble. It was almost _too_ quiet," Will sighs.

Ryder chuckles. "I wouldn't complain about that."

I strip out of my heavy winter jacket and take the seat closest to the fire. I look between Will and Ryder and wonder why he's here and why Will didn't feel the need to tell me about the meet up. Not that he owes me any sort of explanation but I'm starting to get the feeling they're keeping something from me. And as nice as it is to see a familiar face, I'm frustrated that we aren't talking about the obvious.

The barkeep brings us the largest glasses of beer I have ever seen and tosses them down in front of us, the liquid splashing over the top and onto the table. "Thanks, Claire. We'd also like to get something to eat. Something warm please," Ryder says more than asks.

Claire gives a dramatic sigh but says nothing as she turns back to the kitchen.

"Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," Blaine says sarcastically.

Will and Blaine reach for their drinks, but my eyes stay on Ryder. "Any word about Santana?"

Ryder sighs, but doesn't answer right away. I hold my breath and wait much more patiently than I would have thought possible. "She came to the day before I set out. She wasn't awake long. She's was in so much pain. Marley had to sedate her pretty quickly."

"She's awake?" I release my breath in a relieved sigh, but it's short lived when I think about her having to be sedated due to the amount of pain she's in. "Does she know we're coming? Did she say anything? Does she remember what happened?"

Ryder glances at Will and then back to me. "She didn't really say anything. Her memory seems to be fine she's just… She's weak and not being able to move for so long, I guess she's pretty stiff and sore. As far as all this," he says looking around the table, "she only knows I'm here meeting Will."

I want to ask him if she's asked about me. If anyone mentioned to her where I've been or _how_ I've been. Has she been thinking of me as much as I've been thinking of her? But I don't ask any of them. They're too personal. Instead, I reach for my beer.

Will changes the topic. "Have you had any trouble at the house?"

"It's been fairly quiet," Ryder says.

"Fairly? What does that mean?" I ask tersely.

"She's safe," Ryder insists.

Will looks at me from the corner of his eye. "Any news on the war?" he asks, shifting subjects again.

"Nothing beyond what we've discussed. That the Militia is pulling their remaining troops from the South so they can push back out West." Ryder narrows his eyes and looks at me. "And that your father has a pretty big bounty on your head."

I'm not sure if he's looking for some kind of surprised reaction. I'm not. My father may be an asshole, but he's a man of his word. He warned me I'd become his enemy if I left. I know full and well that's what I am to him now. "Dead or alive?" I ask curiously. Ryder's silence answers my question. "I see."

"What's the buzz been around here?" Will asks. Third topic change.

But I'm no longer interested. All that concerns me is Santana's safety. With Ryder confirming that I've got a target on my back, I'm even more concerned about bringing the Militia to her. But I'm selfish. I'm still committed to getting to her despite the risks. A week ago, I had managed to convince myself that there was life after Santana. Now that I can still have a life _with_ her, there's nothing else. Just that. It's all I can see.

Claire brings the soup and places it on the table before leaving us once again. Will calls after her for some bread but I'm not sure she heard it. That's fine with me. I'm that neither hungry, nor am I interested in the local news report any longer. I reach under the table for my bags and throw them over my shoulders while I gather my coat, gloves and hat.

"Is everything okay?" Will asks, all of their eyes on me.

"I'm tired," I give as an excuse.

"Everything's going to be fine, Marty. Are you hungry?" Blaine soothes. He stands and goes to pass me a bowl.

"No thanks, you can leave it." I turn towards Ryder. "Thanks for the food and the room."

"No problem," he says and stands to help with my bags. "Here let me - "

But Blaine beats him to it, swatting his hand away and reaching out to take one of the bags off of my shoulder. He plucks one of the bowls from the table and balances it in free hand before giving me a smile.

Ryder purses his lips but says nothing.

"Goodnight," I tell the rest of them.

I can feel them watching me as I climb the narrow staircase near the tavern's front door. Blaine right on my heels. My room is at the far end of the short hallway. The lock turns easily and I'm quickly looking inside the small, dark room.

I take the light hanging outside of the door and bring it into the room as I look around. There's an empty fireplace against the far wall with a small woodpile beside it. I drop my bags and head immediately over that way to start a flame.

Blaine places the bowl of stew on the small table next to a chair by the fire. "Might not be another diner for a while, so you should eat," he says.

"Thank you, Blaine. But really, I'm not all that hungry," I say gratefully over my shoulder as I load wood into the fireplace.

Blaine waits quietly as I pile up the timber and use my lighter to set the kindling ablaze. "Maybe we should bide some time and talk about it," he says as I sit back on my heels and stare at the rising flames.

"What's there to talk about?" I murmur.

"You can question everything, you can never know anything for sure."

I look over my shoulder at him. "Santana woke up, she's still alive, and all anyone wants to talk about is the war. And I know Will is secretly planning shit and it's starting to wear thin. I could care less about the Militia right now."

"Jabba's put a price on your head so large, every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you," he reminds me.

I stand and spin towards him. "So? Do you think that matters to me right now? All I want is to see Santana!" I'm careful to keep the venom out of my tone. I'm angry, but not at him.

"They know people are listening," he says calmly.** "**I'd be very, very careful who you talk to about that."

He stares at me pointedly but also sympathetically. I look away, understanding his point. "I know we need to be careful I just… I need to see her," I say softly, suddenly feeling very defeated.

Blaine reaches out and places his hand on my shoulder. I know he's just as anxious to get to Santana as I am. I don't know how he's able to keep himself so together. I'm a mess inside and out. But Blaine… Blaine is steady like rock.

After a moment, he squeezes my shoulder. "Get your sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

I nod but don't turn as Blaine quietly leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Grabbing hold of one of the old wooden chairs, I drag it forward until it's directly in front of the fire and I sit, not even bothering to remove my pistol still holstered on my hip. I glance at the stew growing cold on the table beside me. With a sigh, I bring the bowl closer and stir it, trying to force myself to have an appetite.

I manage to get a few bites down before I give up entirely.

* * *

It's late. I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here just staring into the flames, idly running my thumb along the rough edges of the key around my neck. The room is finally warm and I feel myself beginning to drift off, my head resting on the back of the chair.

Ryder's words turn over and over in my head like a broken record.

She's awake. She's in pain. She's sedated. She's safe.

She's _safe._

I jump a little more than I'd like to admit when I hear a light knocking on my door. I stare it for a moment, wondering if I should bother answering it. I'm not really in the mood for visitors. "Quinn? Are you awake?" I sigh and rise from my place by the fire to open the door. "I'm sorry did I wake you?" I shake my head and leave the door open for Ryder to follow me inside the room. "Are you okay?" he asks and closes the door behind him.

"I'm fine," I say quietly.

"I brought you an extra blanket," he says, extending his arms. I turn to look at him and he glances around the room thoughtfully. "Although it feels pretty warm in here..."

I reach for the blanket appreciatively. "Thank you." I'm not sure why he's being so kind to me but I appreciate it all the same.

Ryder shoves his hands in his pants pockets and watches me as I sit down on the edge of the bed, holding the blanket in my lap. "I know it must be hard. Trying to move on and then finding out…"

"Are you here to protect me or something? Is that what you and Will are up to? Protecting me from my father?" I ask abruptly.

"I've seen you in battle, Quinn. I don't think you need protecting," he chuckles. I stare at him expectantly. He and I both know he's not here to deliver blankets. He smile fades and he sighs. "They're looking for you. Like right now, as we speak, there are people out there looking for you. Looking to _kill _you. And who knows where the General's lackey is holed up right now. He could be anywhere."

I inwardly cringe at the thought of Brody hiding in the shadows and actively seeking me out. "Have you heard anything about Sam? Or Jesse? Where they might be?" I know it's a stretch, but with all his connections I figure it's worth a try.

"No," he says. I'm surprised to hear the sympathy in his voice. I'm not sure that's an emotion I'd have if I were him. "But I'll keep looking."

"Thank you." It was a long shot, but I'm disappointed nonetheless. I close my eyes and hope that they are safe.

"Get some sleep. I'm right next door if you need anything," Ryder finally says as he reaches for the door.

"How bad is she?" I ask before he can leave.

His hand lingers on the door handle and for a moment I think he's honestly going to ignore my question and leave. But finally, he turns. "Marley's been keeping her medicated. She's not conscious for long. She needs to push through the pain in order to heal. She'll need some time to recover. I only talked to her once before I left to come here."

"Ryder, please," I beg.

"She's pretty bad," he finally admits. "But Marley's taking good care of her. She's been getting medicine and the fact that she even woke up is a very good thing. She's strong. I bet she's doing miles better by the time we get to her."

"What did she say? When you talked to her?" I ask quietly.

"She asked if you got out." I turn to look at him but he avoids my gaze. "She wanted to know if you were safe. I told her yes."

I want to ask more; a million questions race through my mind. But by the time I can find my voice to ask them, Ryder is gone.

I didn't even notice him leave.

* * *

There are a handful of Raiders gathered around the fire. Fewer than I expected to see as we approached.

"Where are the rest of them?" I ask.

"Inside maybe?" Will offers and nods towards the smattering of dilapidated trailer homes behind them.

"Doubtful," Ryder says. "The rest of them are probably out somewhere plundering. There were plenty more when I skirted by them several days ago."

"Well if that's the case, we better move now before the rest of them get back," I say pulling the binoculars from my eyes. I look towards Ryder. "Tell me again how long you think it'll take to go around them?"

"A couple hours," he says and puts away his own binoculars. "We can cut through the other side of that plateau but it's going to take some time."

"Better than being spotted," Will says, pushing himself up and walking in the direction of the horses. "Quinn's right, we need to move now."

"It's too late for running," Blaine says anxiously. We turn to see him looking in the opposite direction and he points out across the field.

The rest of the Raider party – all two dozen or so of them – are riding towards their camp on horseback. Riding straight for our position.

My heart jumps up into my throat. "Shit," I mutter, reaching for the submachine gun draped across my shoulder. But it's of little comfort. It's too late to run and we are vastly outnumbered. Judging by the way they're at a gallop and not a slower pace, they've spotted us and have every intention on attacking.

"How many grenades do you have?" Will asks Ryder frantically.

"Enough," he answers and begins to pluck them from a bag at his hip. He hands one to Will as Blaine reaches for his rifle, already aiming down the sights to fire as soon as they come into range.

But Will reaches out and pushes the barrel of Blaine's gun away. "No. You and Quinn get behind cover. And take the horses," he instructs and hands the reigns of his horse to Blaine.

I'm more than a little incensed at being ordered around, but to argue now might equal death. I mount Storm at once. "We need to take them far from here or they'll be spooked. It'll take us a bit to get back."

"We'll hold them off," Ryder assures me and hands me the reigns to his mare.

Blaine mounts his horse and we race away from Will and Ryder. When I glance back over my shoulder, I see some of the Raiders break from the pack to give us chase.

"Fuck," I call out. Blaine glances behind me and sees them too. Ahead of us there's a line of tall chain-link fence standing watch over an empty field that most likely used to be acres of farmland. I lead Blaine and the horses that way. Blaine and I both dismount before the horses have come to a stop. We tie them up to the fence and sprint away, back in the direction of Will and Ryder. I can only hope that the Raider's are too anxious to kill us rather than go after our horses.

We don't make it far before the Raider's that have peeled off to find us catch up. A hail of gunfire rains down as Blaine and I dive behind a long since abandoned haystack. I wince as I hear the crack of another round, but am relieved to find that the haystack is just thick enough to shield us from immediate danger.

Unsure where exactly our attackers are coming from and worried that trying to look out and find them will leave us too exposed, Blaine and I settle for blind firing around the edges. More bullets let loose into the stack. I jump in surprise as something sharp stings my cheek. But I realize with instant relief that it's just the sharp edge of a stray piece of hay.

And then things begin to explode.

One loud blast follows another. I hear the Raiders cry out in surprise. And pain. Blaine and I exchange a look and decide to risk a glance. When I look around, I see the bigger pack of Raiders either downed or staggering away from what must have been one of Ryder's grenades. The Raiders that had been barreling down on us don't appear to have been hurt by the second grenade, but they look to be retreating back a little.

They'll be back. Raiders don't stop until they're dead and gone. And I can see the remaining attackers already beginning to regroup. But they're far enough away now for Blaine and I to take advantage of the distraction and run.

We sprint for the stacks that Will and Ryder have taken shelter behind. As we near, I see Will point at something over my shoulder and shout. Blaine and I hit the deck as Will and Ryder take aim and fire over top of us. I look back and am both alarmed and relieved to see that the men coming to kill us had been very, very close but are now very, very dead.

But the respite is short lived. The ten or so Raiders left are starting to circle our position. They've abandoned their horses to injury, but are sprinting towards us with frightening speed.

Raiders are primal creatures; many of them using knives, swords, pieces of piping, and other blunt objects as weapons. Guns are hard for them to come by seeing as how no one wants to trade with them. Unfortunately, this group must be fresh from a pillage, because they keep the gunfire coming.

We're pinned down. I glance at the others still twenty or so meters away, making sure they are okay as I lean out sparingly from cover to take whatever shots I can. "Go!" I yell towards Blaine, nodding towards Will and Ryder. "They'll be overrun!" He glances at them but looks back to me with a shake of his head, determined to stay. I pop out from behind cover and hold down the trigger, giving him cover. "Go!" I yell again.

He hesitates briefly but then sprints towards the others as the Raiders come around the corner outnumbering them.

"Quinn!" I hear Ryder yell from my side. I glance at him and see that he's motioning behind me as best he can. I look behind me in time to see two Raiders racing my direction. I suddenly regret sending Blaine away to help the others.

The first Raider lifts the sledge hammer above his head, ready to swing it in my direction. I lift my SMG and hold down the trigger until the Raider collapses to the ground.

I'm barely able to turn towards the second Raider to my right, firing but hearing nothing but a _click click click_.

Panicked, I smack the bottom of the magazine, trying to clear a cartridge malfunction without removing it completely. By the time I lift the gun to try again, the approaching Raider knocks it from my hand and reaches out to grab me under my arms, lifting me like a small child.

I swallow the panic and reach for my dagger. I can feel his hot, terrible breath on me as my attacker begins to shift me around to do something undoubtedly awful. I pull the blade loose and stab it deep into the soft flesh under his collarbone. He doesn't fall. Instead, he screams something guttural and tosses me away from him like a rag doll.

I land on my back and skid backwards, the wind knocked completely out of me. Gasping for air, I lift my head to see the Raider rip the knife from his collar and take two swift steps towards me holding my blade tightly in his fist. I grab desperately for my holstered pistol but it's too late. He pushes my hand from the pistol and reaches down with a snarl as he grabs the lapels of my jacket.

The Raider hauls me back to my feet, his yellow teeth showing from underneath his curled lip. My eyes go wide when I see my own knife coming straight for me.

But before my blade can connect, he's pulled away. I take a deep, painful breath and look up to see Ryder holding him tightly in a headlock. The Raider tries to shift his weight and break the hold, but Ryder's position and strength is too much for him. And then, with shocking speed, the Raider's head is forcefully turned at an impossible angle as Ryder grabs him by the jaw and yanks up counterclockwise, snapping his neck in one smooth notion. Ryder drops the lifeless body and steps back to catch his own breath.

I meet his eyes for a brief second, grateful for him being there, before a second Raider rushes from behind him.

I lift my pistol and shoot over his shoulder without hesitation. Ryder jumps, startled more so by the Raider behind him than the fact that I just shot inches within his head.

He looks at me for a moment, a small smile curling up at the corners of his lips before turning to face another attacker. And then another.

By the time it's over, we're all out of breath. Exhausted, but alive.

Blaine wipes the blood from his cheek where a knife grazed way too close for comfort. Ryder kicks at a fallen Raider in disgust. No one bothers to ransack their belongings, all of us repulsed by even the mere sight of them.

"Well that could've gone better," Will says, looking around at the destruction.

"Should we burn them?" Ryder asks

"Let them rot," I say as I cast a brief glance at the fallen Raiders. Ryder's eyes lift to meet mine. "Let's go."

* * *

"Okay, hold up," Ryder says, pulling his horse to a stop. We all follow suit, although my eyes remain locked to the tree line. "We need to go slow. The people around here don't appreciate intruders."

"But they know you," I say, my patience long since past the breaking limit. "You mean to tell me the girl that's watching Santana will shoot at _you?_"

"Better to be careful," Will agrees with Ryder.

I look around at the rolling hills and tall trees. If there are people living within this forest, I'm not seeing them. But I keep my eyes open, waiting and watching for the Vultures to pop out from behind the trees and shoot us off our horses. I roll my eyes and follow the others slowly forward, Ryder at the lead.

Finally, a house comes into view. It's bigger than I expected. It's tucked deep within the mountain, protected only by the surrounding cliffs and trees. I think about how close we are to the battle site and wonder if Sam and Jesse came this way. Was Artie with them? Did the people here help them or hunt them? I need to ask this girl if she has seen them.

Suddenly front door to the house opens and Jake steps out, a rifle aimed at us. "Lemme see your hands and faces!"

Ryder lifts his hands, the rest of us following suit as we bring our horses to a stop. "It's just us," Ryder says pulling the scarf from his face. We all do the same. We wait patiently as Jake checks us over through his scope motioning us forward but keeping is rifle up and ready.

As we approach the house, Jake finally lowers his gun and jogs down the handful of steps, followed closely by a slender girl. She has a hunting rifle at her side. I watch her like a hawk as I dismount with the others.

Jake approaches Will and the two of them have a brief, private conversation. "You go on. I'll bring the horses around back and your bags inside," Jake says.

Will thanks him and hands off the reigns. I realize then that I'm fingering the key around my neck.

Marley watches us warily as we approach. Her finger is disturbingly close to the trigger.

As we get closer, I'm actually very surprised to see how young she is. And pretty, too. She's got bright blue eyes and an innocent enough looking face. But I'm still incredibly cautious. And resentful. This is the vulture that found Santana, who saved her life when I could not. I should be thankful, appreciative. But all I feel is bitterness. And guilt.

"This is Marley," Ryder says, motioning to her and then to us. "This is Will, Blaine, and Quinn."

She looks us over skeptically. Will casually removes his coat and rolls up his sleeves, extending his hand to shake hers. "It's nice to meet you," he says, twisting his arm in a way to show off his Rebellion tattoo. "Thank you for having us in your home."

Her eyes glance down at the rectangle with two, thick black lines in the middle. She stares at him for a moment. "Do you all want something to drink?"

Will smiles. "That would be great, thank you."

We follow her into the house, Marley propping her rifle in the corner just next to the door. I glance at the staircase, resisting the urge to race up the steps to find Santana.

"I've got some tea. You're probably cold and tired from your journey," Marley says kindly.

"The weather is definitely shifting," Will says and drapes his coat across the staircase banister.

I remove my hat and gloves, shoving them in my coat pocket before slipping it off and draping my coat over Will's. I take another glance up the staircase before we follow Marley into the kitchen.

"I suppose you all want to know about your friend," Marley says as she sets mugs on the large table and motions us to sit.

"How is she?" Will asks, his face showing concern as he takes a seat.

Marley enters the dining room with a large kettle and pours steaming hot water into each mug. She places the kettle on the table and slides a box containing homemade tea bags towards us. She sits down with a sigh and waits until we've all gotten our own tea before taking one for herself and answering Will's question. "She's sleeping now and seems to be doing rather well considering."

"Police have just issued a general statement, which doesn't tell us much more..." Blaine says and looks expectantly at Marley.

She looks confused. She pauses dunking her tea bag to stare at Blaine.

"He wants to know more about her condition," I clarify impatiently. Blaine glances at me and nods.

Marley just looks at him, no malice, just curiosity. She takes a deep breath and pulls her tea closer. "When I found her, she was unconscious and barely alive. I still don't know how I managed to get her here by myself. She had a broken leg, broken wrist, a bad head injury, fractured ribs…" Marley shakes her head as she recalls Santana's injuries. "I was worried about internal bleeding but the fever she developed early on, well," she sighs. "I thought for sure the infection would kill her." I stare down at the mug in my hands, Marley's words painful to hear despite already knowing all this from Will. "I put a cast around her leg, bandaged her up as best as I could and made sure she had fluids fed into her and all the right medicine. Luckily, her body responded positively to the treatment."

"Forgive me for asking but how did you know to do all that?" Will asks.

"Marley's mom used to be a healer. She was a well respected woman around here," Ryder says quietly from beside me. "Santana's lucky Marley found her."

I clench my hands tightly around the mug and shift in my seat. No matter how lucky Santana might've been, I still should've been the one to find her. The guilt of leaving her tears through me. I should've gone to her; I should've looked for her. I should've done _something_ other than run away.

"And her fever broke," Will prompts.

"A few days ago," Marley nods. "She regained consciousness and woke up screaming. At first I thought it was from pain but the more I think about it the more I believe it was nightmares." Marley sighs and shakes her head slightly. "I kept her sedated that first day, the shock of waking up to a body healing from so much after so long… well, you can only image." We fall silent, no one really knowing what else to say. But the more I hear, the more I want to go to her. "She'll be okay though. She just needs rest and time to get her strength back."

I can't take it any longer. I push myself up from the table, not able to stay away from Santana for one more instant. Even if she is sleeping, I just need to see her, be near her.

"I wouldn't disturb her," Marley calls out. "She's really just needs to rest."

"Let her go," I hear Will tell her quietly.

No one follows me.

I reach the stairs by the front entrance and I stare up them, the world seeming to slow down as I take each step one by one until I reach the top. I glance to my left. Of the five doors, only one of them is closed. So I make my way in that direction, the hallway seeming to stretch on for forever.

I reach out to turn the doorknob, but find myself frozen. Santana is behind this door. It's still hard to believe. I had imagined this being true in my head ever since…

My heart is hammering. But I force myself to reach out and open the door.

The room is small. There's a dresser pushed to one side and a nightstand on either side of the bed, which is the centerpiece of the room. There's a lantern on one table and a glass of water on the other. The room is brightened and warmed by the fire still burning in the fireplace on the other side. A small table sits in the corner with a bowl of water and a cloth laid out on top. The room is dark. The drapes are pulled almost completely shut.

It looks like a room you'd find for rent in a tavern. Not a personal bedroom.

I close the door behind me and walk slowly towards the bed, my eyes focused on the shape lying in the middle, the blankets pulled up high on her chest. I hold my breath as I get closer.

I stare at her for a long moment, relieved to see her chest rise and fall with each seemingly regular breath. My eyes stay there for long passing moments, convincing myself that this is reality and that's really Santana breathing in front of me.

Slowly, my eyes rise to her face, dragging them over every detail: the bruise near her temple, the surrounding the stitches that cut across her brow, her cheeks that lack their usual color.

Her arms rest outside of the blankets, against her body, her wrist closest to me bandaged tightly.

Pulling up the chair to the edge of the bed, I stare at her again, unable to get enough of her. I take her hand and hold it tightly between mine, my thumb brushing lightly over her soft skin.

I stare at her, unable to drag my eyes away. I hate seeing her so broken. It shatters my heart seeing her laying here like this. But I can't help the relief that washes through me at being here with her. Or the tear that escapes as I watch her breathe.

Leaning forward, I push the hair from her face and brush my lips across her injured brow.

I sit back and bring her hand to my lips, keeping them pressed against her skin as I look down at her, the tears now falling with abandon.

She looks like she's been through hell and back, but she's still Santana.

She's still my Santana.

And more importantly, she's _alive_.


	2. Chapter 2

**SANTANA'S POV**

_I run as fast as I can, clutching my arm to my chest, my wrist broken. Hundreds of feet above me, I hear the ridge detonate loudly. I pick up my speed, knowing the resulting landslide is coming. _

_It starts with a distinct crackling and rapidly evolves into a cacophony of crashing earth, breaking rocks and sliding debris. I stare straight ahead, focused on running until I'm completely free of the falling earth above me. But the boulders come fast, spiraling down the side of the cliff at an alarming speed._

_It's impossible to shake the feeling that it's too late. That I'm not gonna make it. The ridge is crumbling all around me. All I see is dust and shifted earth, swallowing up the landscape like a wave crashing on a shoreline. I escaped the underground tomb, but now the sky is going to bury me out here in the open. _

_So I sprint harder, running as fast as my legs will carry me, flinching as the rubble licks at me and crashes down creating a dirt filled plume. I hold my breath to keep from inhaling the debris as I blindly race towards safety. _

_As I push my way out of the dust cloud, I'm knocked over by something I can't see and I stumble and fall. I scream out in agony as the splintered boulder hammers me to the earth, pinning me there. A moment later I scream again as another piece of the fallen earth crushes the back of my leg. _

_I try to move but something slams against my head and all I see is darkness. I'm too late._

I awake suddenly, the shooting pain in my leg keeping me from staying asleep any longer. I open my eyes and wince as my body aches and immediately close them as a wave of pain travels up my body. First my leg, then my chest as I take a deep breath, all the way up to my head, which throbs painfully. The medicine is wearing off.

I slow my breathing and attempt to collect my bearings. I'm not buried under a pile of rocks. I'm safe. I made it. I'm not trapped.

When I open my eyes again, I notice it's much darker outside then when I was last awake. The sun is setting, casting little light through the windows. The fire still blazes in the fireplace, warming the entire room. Despite the sweat I can feel on my forehead, I'm racked by a shiver from the fever I clearly still haven't shaken.

The last few days I've spent just learning to walk again. At first it was just standing. Then to the door and back. Then down the hall. This morning I made several loops around the upstairs hallway, wandering in and out of every room as I grow more accustomed to my crutches. Or "my new set of legs", as Marley calls them.

But the more I push myself, the more pain I'm in when I come to. Marley says that will subside overtime, that I'm getting stronger. But my busted wrist makes it almost impossible to put in the effort I would like.

It's frustrating, but I'm determined to get back into the fight. Determined to get to my friends. And even more determined to get to Quinn.

My mouth is incredibly dry. I try to lift my arm to reach for my glass of water, but something restricts me. When I look down to see what the problem is, I notice a mess of blonde hair, resting comfortably on my forearm and a warm hand tangled with my own.

I freeze, careful not to shift or move as I stare at her sleeping form. My mind races; is she really here? Am I actually awake or am still dreaming?

And then I feel a sudden, lightning bolt of pain shoot up my leg for seemingly no apparent reason. I am most definitely awake. I steady my breath, trying to push aside the pain as I watch her.

Carefully, I reach across my body with my free hand push the hair from her face. A slow smile stretches across my lips as her beautiful features come into view. I want to cry. Every waking thought since the tunnels has been of her. Where she is, what she's doing, _how_ she's doing. I knew Puck had gotten her out, but beyond that, I'd be completely in the dark. No one here has spoken to me about her beyond Ryder telling me that she was safe. I doubt they knew anything anyway.

And now here she is, sleeping peacefully on my arm as though she never left my side.

I feel guilty about sending her away before the battle and even guiltier about not being there afterwards. Aside from all the great thoughts, I've also spent a decent amount of time worrying about our initial reunion. What I would say. What _she _would say…

And now here she is and I'm at a complete loss for words. I'm just…relieved. And happy. But I'm still a little worried about how she's going to respond. Do I apologize? Do I try and explain? Will she even want to listen?

I try to stay positive as I rake my fingers through her noticeably shorter hair and just stare at her. My eyes drag slowly over her face: over her closed eyes and cheeks, over her nose and jaw and finally to her slightly parted mouth. For the first time since I got here, I feel completely relaxed.

I squeeze her hand gently. After a moment, she stirs and takes a deep breath. Her eyes blink open. Slowly she lifts her head while I continue to drag my fingers through her hair. She looks a little disoriented at first. She blinks some of the sleep out of her eyes before she finally focuses them on me. I hold my breath, anticipating her reaction. Her expression changes at once.

"Santana," she says breathlessly. Her eyes glisten as she examines my face.

Immediately I release the air from my lungs. I notice her gaze drift up to the jagged stitches above my brow. "You cut your hair," I say, cupping the side of her face in my hand and bringing her eyes back to mine. A tear slides down her cheek which I quickly wipe away with my thumb. "I like it," I tell her with a smile.

She lets out a choked sob and then leans in, kissing my cheek just underneath my eye and then my injured brow and finally my lips. It's brief and chaste, yet absolutely perfect. She pulls away and looks down at me, wiping away another tear that's. With some effort, I manage to prop myself up on the backs of my elbows, headed for a seated position.

Quinn watches me carefully as I can't conceal the amount of pain and effort it takes just to do that simple task. I pushed myself too hard this morning. "Are you okay? Are you in pain?" she asks as she props the pillows behind me.

"Never better," I mutter as I'm finally able to get myself situated. "Just a little stiff."

Her eyes stay focused on me as I suck in a sharp breath. My hand shoots to my side and I press lightly on my ribs, wincing. "You _are_ in pain!" she says worriedly. "Let me go get Marley…"

I reach out and grab her hand. "No," I tell her firmly. I want no one else in this room right now. She looks at me questioningly. "I just need some water." It's almost funny to see her move so quickly. She has the glass of water in my hand in a flash. I knock back the glass in a few gulps. When I'm finished, she takes the empty glass away. I stare openly, still amazed that she's here. When she turns back to me, she has that sad expression on her face again.

"I'm okay," I tell her. I take her hand in mine, dragging my thumb lightly across her knuckles. "When did you get here?"

She looks down at her hand in mine, lingering on my bandaged wrist. "A few hours ago," she says quietly. "I must've fallen asleep."

"I'm really glad you're here," I tell her softly.

When her eyes lift to meet mine, it feels as though my heart shatters into a million pieces. I can tell _instantly_ just how badly my decisions have affected her. It makes me sick to my stomach. This is exactly what I'd been selfishly afraid of when thinking about this moment.

She reaches out and places the back of her hand on my forehead worriedly. "Marley said your fever broke. It's obviously not gone. Are you hot?"

"Cold actually," I say, pulling the blanket higher. "But I feel better than I did yesterday."

My eyes drop to the chain around her neck. I reach out and gently pull on it, freeing the key from underneath her shirt. I hold the key in my hand and stare at it. I wore this chain for years. Never took it off. Except the night I gave it to Blaine.

I think about him giving the key to Quinn and her finding the contents inside. I wonder briefly what was going through her mind as she found them… and how it must have felt when I never come back.

"Quinn I - "

She shakes her head, interrupting me. Leaning in, she presses her lips to mine and kisses me. It's wet and sloppy not at all chaste like the first one. She puts her hands on my face and pulls away slightly, her lips still grazing mine. "Not tonight. Please."

I nod once before she's kissing me again, deeply. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck to keep her close. Her tongue slides against mine and I shift to bring her in even closer. But the pain that shoots up my leg from the awkward position is so unbearable that I have to pull away, breaking the kiss as I cry out.

She leans back, removing all contact from me as if her touch alone has created the pain. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - "

"No," I tell her as I try to catch my breath. "No, it's not you." I try and reposition my leg, constricted by the bulky, homemade cast.

Quinn moves to stand. "I really should go get Marley," she says.

I grab her forearm. "Listen, I'm still taking medicine that makes me want to sleep. I'd rather not take any right now." Quinn starts to protest but I interject. "I'm fine. I just put too much pressure on it today. Okay? I'm fine."

The light knocking on the door pulls my attention from Quinn. I'm more than a little irritated. After all this time, all I want is just a few isolated minutes with her.

But the frustration slips away when I see the dark mop of curly hair atop the curious face that peers around the doorway. Quinn pulls back as I sit up, a smile stretching across my face. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't want to interrupt," Blaine says hesitantly.

Quinn smiles and stands, pulling her hand completely away from mine. I want to reach out and tell her to stay and pull her back to me. That I'm not ready for her to go. But I don't get the chance. "I'll let you two catch up. Will will want to see you as well." She smiles at me and drops a kiss on my temple.

"Don't be gone long," I tell her as she heads for the door. She looks over her shoulder and smiles but says nothing.

I glance towards Blaine as he walks tentatively into the room. "Well look at you!" I say as he comes to the side of the bed, my smile growing when I finally get a good look at him. "But what's that?" I can't stop smiling as I pull him down closer to me, trapping him in a headlock as I grab his face with my hand. "What is this? What's on your face?"

He laughs and swats at me, trying to pull away. "Now, don't tell me you spotted the beard in the middle of a goddamn sandstorm."

I hold his face in my hands and examine his newly grown facial hair. "I leave you alone for a couple of weeks and you can't remember to shave your face?"

"I like that beard. Abe Lincoln-style," he says pulling away with a huge grin.

"Does Kurt like this? I mean, there's no way he likes you all scratchy," I grimace.

Blaine rubs his beard and stands straighter, still smiling. "No, I'm not gonna take this beard off. It's my lucky beard!"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, lucky beard my ass." I'm beyond happy to see him. Between him and Quinn, I feel a million percent better. "So how is everyone? Are they doing okay? Jake said you all made it home."

He sits down in the chair Quinn was occupying and nods his head. His smile falters a bit. "With all we've been through, sometimes I'm amazed we're in as good condition as we are, what with the Rebellion and all."

I nod, knowing exactly what he means. "From what I hear, we lost a lot of really good people." Thankfully, Puck, Rachel and the others were not among them.

"Enough of our people have been lost already," he says quietly.

I glance at the door. "How's Quinn? She seems kind of… sad."

His eyes lift to meet mine. "She's been through more than you know." And just like that, the immense guilty feeling comes back. Blaine apparently notices and is quick to reassure me. "She just missed you, that's all."

But despite that, I wonder briefly if things between Quinn and I will ever be the same again.

* * *

**QUINN'S POV**

I head down the side staircase into the kitchen, taking a deep, steadying breath. I knew seeing Santana would be emotional. But this? This is more than I expected. I'm exhausted. I had no idea how much was weighing on me until it was suddenly removed upon seeing her. Weight of the world and all that.

I can't express how relieved I am to see her. How impossibly thankful I am that she's still here, alive. But there's something else, something that feels much like resentment and irritation. It grew stronger when I saw her and even more so when I looked into her eyes.

I'm finding it hard to put into words, that nagging feeling in the back of my mind. A dark, unexpected feeling that I'm trying like hell to push down. But the more I allow myself to think about it, the angrier I get. All of directed at _her. _

"Hey." Ryder's voice snaps me out of my haze. I didn't even notice him standing at the counter. "Didn't know if we'd see you for the rest of the night," he says with a smile.

I walk over and peer over his shoulder. "Blaine is with her. She's awake."

"That's good!" he says happily. He motions down at the knife in his hand and filets he's preparing. "Marley has me on fish duty. I hope everybody like's catfish." I nod and turn around, leaning my back against the counter disinterested. When I don't respond, he seems to read into my silence. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, glancing around. There's no sign of anyone else inside the house. "Where's Will?"

"Out riding with Jake. They should be back any minute." Ryder continues to filet the catfish, placing each one to the side.

I glance at the bowl of flower and other seasoning. "Do you need any help?"

"You want to start breading the filets?" he asks.

"Sure." I push my sleeves up and dip my hands in the wash bin, soaping them up and cleaning them before I start to bread the filets that Ryder has so meticulously cleaned. "Ryder, I had no idea you cooked," I admit with a small smile.

He shrugs and reaches for the cast iron skillet, pouring some oil in for pan-frying the filets. "I spend most of my time traveling. If I didn't know how to cook a few things, I'd die of starvation," he says with a wry smile.

"Fair enough."

He goes over to the large pot boiling over the fire, stirring what I believe is a broth with potatoes and carrots. "I can also sew if you ever want me to patch the hole in your jacket," he teases.

I wince thinking about the hole that's growing larger in the elbow of my heavy winter coat. "You noticed that, huh?"

"What happened? Get caught on a tree branch?" he jokes and comes over to check on the progress of my breading capabilities.

"The fence I was repairing actually," I admit somewhat embarrassedly.

He smirks and takes the cast iron pan full of filets to the wood burning stovetop. "Uh huh."

"This should last us for awhile," Marley says, entering the kitchen with two large buckets of water. "But if anyone else wants to take a bath, they are getting their own water."

Ryder glances at me and we both grin. "Fair enough," he says.

"Is she awake?" Marley asks, looking at me and placing the buckets on the far edge of the counter.

"Yeah. Blaine is up there with her."

"We'll bring up some broth and get her some bread. Regular food is too rich for her stomach right now. She'll have to work her way back up to it. But I think the potatoes and carrots will be okay," Marley says. She leans her hip against the doorway into the dining room and crosses her arms. "How did she seem pain wise?"

"Not terrible. But I think she's hurting," I admit somewhat hesitantly. I don't want to speak for her, but I refuse to let her lie up there in pain.

"She's coming off the strong stuff and her body is finally starting to really heal. Laying prone for that long has helped heal the breaks, but she needs to regain her strength. That puts a strain on her body." Marley pushes herself off of the wall and heads for a tall bureau. She opens a drawer, rummaging inside for a moment, checking the bright orange bottles within. "This shouldn't make her sleepy but it will help with the pain." She plucks one of them out.

"Marley," I say, staring at the medicine in her hand. It's hard for me to find the words, to feel something other than repulsion for a vulture. Even though something inside of me doesn't trust her completely, I can't help but feel grateful at all she's done. And a little guilt at judging her before ever meeting her. "I just want to say thank you. For everything you've done for Santana."

Marley nods and smiles slightly. She holds the bottle out to me. "Do you want to take this up to her?"

"No need, my lazy ass is coming down."

"You did enough this morning!" Marley shouts up at her with a frustrated sigh.

We all turn to see Santana slowly making her way down the stairs, her crutches tucked under her arms. Marley frowns but doesn't make an effort to help her as Santana hangs on tightly to the banister.

"Ain't no stoppin' us now! Whoo! We're on the move!" Blaine says happily behind her.

"It won't be ready for a little while," Ryder cautions about the filets.

"That's okay. It's nice to get out of my hospital bed," Santana says finally reaching the bottom of the stairs. She flashes a wicked grin in Marley's direction. "Don't worry, doc. I've got it under control."

"Do you want something to drink?" I ask as I rinse my hands off.

"Water please," Santana says gratefully.

While I get her a glass of water, I watch as she bypasses the kitchen table and makes her way to the sitting room, plopping down breathlessly into the oversized chair by the fireplace. She props her crutches against one of the armrests.

"Are you cold?" I ask as I watch her pull the blanket from the back of the chair and wrap it over her shoulders.

"I'm okay," she says with a smile, taking the glass of water. "Thanks." Her eyes meet mine and she smiles. I can't help the smile that follows and I reach out to push the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Are you hungry?"

"Starving actually," she admits happily. "Can you kick that over a little?" She motions towards a small, pea-green stool. I oblige and help her prop her leg up on it. She winces the whole way. "Quinn, I thought maybe we could - "

But whatever it is she was in the middle of asking gets interrupted as Will walks in through the front door, Jake closely behind. They both shake snow from their sleeves and remove their stocking caps.

Will looks in our direction and his eyes light up when they fall on Santana. "Hey! Look at you!"

"Yeah, look at me," Santana says with a small smile.

"You don't look so bad," he says as he shrugs out of his coat and walks over.

Santana's eyes meet mine briefly before she turns back to Will, her smile growing. "Wish I could say the same for you," she teases. "Are you and Blaine having a contest to see who can grow the lamest beard?"

"It's just been a couple days!" Will laughs and rubs his face. Blaine shakes his head and sits down in the chair across from Santana, clearly amused. "I promise I'll shave tonight," Will says, pulling up a wooden chair closer to Santana. "So how are you feeling?"

I slip out of the room, needing to get away for a moment. The nagging feeling in the back of my mind surfacing once more.

* * *

**SANTANA'S POV**

My stomach continues to rumble. I stare ravenously at the food in front of me, reminding myself that I've got to take it slow. Something Marley reminds me often. So despite wanting to do anything but, I carefully swallow each spoonful of broth and take my time chewing the potatoes and carrots within.

In between measured bites, I steal glances at Quinn on my right. Blaine's comment about her being sad seems to repeat every time I look her way. Sadness that I caused her. I hate it.

She catches me looking and flashes me an awkward little smile. I give her my own and look back down at my food. I feel like a fucking teenager.

"Marley, we really can't thank you enough for having us all in your home. I know you weren't expecting to host so many people," Will says between bites.

Marley brushes the comment aside. "Anything to help the Rebellion."

I try not to roll my eyes. Anything to help Jake is more like it. But she's been nothing but kind to me so I say nothing about her obvious affection for him.

Quinn shifts in her chair. I can see her wrestling with her own response to that comment. But she ends up saying nothing.

I turn to look Will. "Have you heard from any of the others recently?" I ask, hoping to change the subject. This time everyone else shifts uncomfortably. Their eyes avoid mine as they glance at one another without answering. Suddenly I know. I know why no one will give me any news. I know why no one has anything to say about my friends. "They don't know you're here, do they?"

Will looks to Quinn for a hand, but she arches a brow, saying nothing. Agitated, Will looks back to me. "We thought it would be best if no one knew you were alive. Not until we knew…"

"That I was alive," I supply. I see Quinn finally look my way. And then, just as quickly, she's looking away again.

"Plus, if word got out…," Will starts.

"The Militia would storm the place," I finish for him. I look to Marley, not wanting that for her. After everything she's done for me, the last thing I want is to bring this war to her doorstep.

"They might. We don't know enough about their numbers or their position," Will says with obvious disappointment.

I lean back in my chair, dropping my spoon against the side of the bowl. My appetite is gone. "And you've got your best infiltrators here babysitting me."

"I'm actually leaving after we eat," Jake speaks up. I turn to look at him curiously. He looks from me to everyone else and blushes slightly, turning back to his food. "I should have an update soon," he mumbles as an afterthought.

Quinn leans in to me, shifting her chair closer. "Don't worry about any of this now. Just focus on getting better," she says softly.

I pick up my spoon and mindlessly push around a carrot. "Yeah. Sure."

* * *

Despite the darkness, I can see the snow softly falling by the light of the moon. It's calming really, the silence that seems to come along with freshly fallen snow. Something tells me that the silence is likely to be short lived.

Something big must be happening if Jake has venture out in this weather in the middle of the night. Will knows something he's not telling me. And it's pissing me off.

I think about Rachel and the others. I hope they're okay. Despite understanding why they're being kept in the dark about me being alive, the deception does sting a little. They're my family. I want to be with them. I want to protect them and make sure that they're okay.

Maybe tomorrow I can figure out exactly what it is he's hiding. But for tonight, I'm content to let it lie. Tonight I want to focus on Quinn.

She's been distant. And that doesn't settle well with me at all. I'm not stupid. I know it has everything to do with the decisions I made. I just need to find the time and the words to try and explain myself. And I need to do it before the awkward air hovering between us becomes too unbearable. But it was very clear to me during dinner that she was in no mood to discuss the war. And that's fine by me.

I'm pulled from my thoughts as Quinn enters the room and closes the door behind her, twisting the lock. She drops her bags inside the doorway. Even though she was offered her own room, I'm glad she decided to stay in mine.

I turn to look at her, leaning on my crutches, keeping the weight off my bad leg and wrist. She glances at me briefly and I smile.

"I guess everyone will be hunkering down for winter," she says, going to the pot of water warming over the fire.

"I heard it's supposed to be bad," I agree.

She pulls the water from the fire and places it on the hearth. The steam billows up and out. I look up from the pot and see her watching my warily. "You're tired. You should get some sleep."

I shrug and make my way to the steaming pot of water. "I just want to wash up first." She watches me for a moment as I attempt to figure out how the hell I can lift the pot by myself to wash.

After a moment, she takes pity on me. "I'll get it," she says gently.

Disappointed in not being able to do much of anything by myself, I hobble over to the closest chair and pull it towards the bed. I plop down, tossing my crutches aside angrily and propping my foot up on the side of the bed. Quinn says nothing as she pours the hot water into the basin. "I hate that you're seeing me like this," I mutter.

She rolls up her sleeves and dips the washcloth into the water. She rings it out and lathers one side with soap before placing them both on the table. She turns to me and reaches out, placing the back of her hand against my forehead.

I close my eyes at her touch. She cups my face in her hands and then around the sides of my neck. "You feel cooler," she observes. I open my eyes and look at her, catching her gaze for a moment before she pulls her hands away.

I sigh and take the bottom of my shirt in my hands and pull upwards to take it off. She stops me almost instantly. "Here, let me help."

But I ignore her and attempt to remove my shirt again, still irritated.

Kneeling in front of me, Quinn's hands stop me once again. My eyes lift to hers. "Let me," she says softly.

"Quinn. You don't have to bathe me," I mumble.

"I know," she says gently before continuing to tug up and pull my shirt away. I wince at having to lift my arms straight up for an extended amount of time, although it's more habit at this point than actual pain. She folds my shirt in half and places it to the side.

Quinn looks me up and down. There's nothing sexual or exciting about it. It's actually quite the opposite; I know she's taking in my myriad of bruises and scrapes. I wait for her to say something, to comment on the more visible bruising. My fractured ribs look the worst despite Marley telling me that the bruising and swelling has gone down significantly and that they're almost fully healed. But there's still a large purple streak up and down my side and I know that can't be easy to stare at. It really does just look worse than it feels, though.

She continues to stay quiet as she grabs the wet cloth from the table. She presses it to my chest, gently making small circles all the way across. Slowly she makes her way down my breasts and my sides, her touch becoming gentler as the cloth touches anything that's purple or blue from bruising.

Her eyes linger on the gunshot wounds, the areas finally healing. Marley tells me that, despite the vest I'd been wearing, the bullets had managed to pierce the padding due to the proximity from where they were fired. My skin had actually torn in those places. I decide not to point out that fact to Quinn.

We remain perfectly quiet as she washes my arms and my neck. I stare into her eyes.

I lean forward so that she can push my hair aside and get to my back. The scent of the soap and the warm cloth lull me into a somewhat drowsy contentment. I hate that simple tasks have become very difficult. I know Marley took good care of me while I was unconscious, making sure I was clean and cared for. But despite that feeling of helplessness – something very foreign to me – there's something to be said for the comforting touch of someone you love.

And even though there's a space between us, I can still feel that love radiating off of her. And that gives me hope.

I lean back when she finishes, feeling so much better now that I'm a little cleaner. Not for the first time, I find myself thinking about how good it would feel to be fully submerged in a steaming hot tub of water.

She leans in, kissing me on the cheek before tossing the cloth in the bin and heading over to her bags by the door.

I lift myself off of the chair and work my way to the bed. "I think tomorrow I'm going to sit in the tub. Wash my hair, get properly cleaned." Quinn nods as she rummages through her bags. I watch as she strips off her clothes, changing into sweat pants and a t-shirt. "It's kind of awkward with my leg, but maybe you could give me a hand?"

"Of course," she says with a small smile.

She hands me a clean shirt and I slip it on over my head. "You know, you look better in my clothes than I do."

She rolls her eyes but the smile is still on her lips. "I doubt that."

"Quinn." I reach out, grabbing her arm and stopping her from turning away. "Please don't shut me out."

She sighs and rubs at her eyes. When she looks up, her smile is gone. "Santana, I'm tired. We've been traveling for days and I haven't been sleeping very well." She looks at me, her eyes pleading not to press the issue. "I really just want to wash up and crawl into bed."

Slowly my hand loosens around her arm, letting her go. "Okay."

She turns her attention the small stack of pillows for my leg and pulls the covers away to help me settle into bed. I stare up at the ceiling, at the shadows dancing on the walls above me. Quinn tends to the fire and puts out the bedside lantern. She makes sure the glass of water is full next to the bed and walks around to the other side, slipping under the covers next to me.

I continue to stare at the ceiling, fairly well hurt at being rebuked yet again.

We lay perfectly still for a while. Neither of us saying anything. I finally close my eyes and turn my head away from her, unable to take the emotional distance between us.

Suddenly the bed shifts and I feel her fingers trail down the side of my face, turning my head back in her direction.

She holds my face in her hands as she hovers over me, waiting until my eyes meet hers. "I'm confused right now. With everything that's happened, I have so many thoughts running through my head. I can't really sort through them all. But my feelings for you haven't changed. Okay?"

"Yeah," I say wanting so badly to believe her.

"Hey," she says, sounding hurt. I'm frustrated that I continue to cause her pain. Before I can apologize, she bends down and kisses me.

I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her on top of me. I want to run my hands through her hair and slowly peel the clothes from her body and show her how sorry I am. Show her that I feel the same for her too.

But she pulls away as the key comes free from her shirt and smacks me in the face. "Sorry," she says, blushing.

It makes me laugh, which is exactly the type of break in the tension we desperately needed. I hold the key loosely in my hand as it dangles in front of me and rub the edges of it with my finger. She hesitates briefly and reaches for the chain to pull it over her head. I drop the key and put my hand over hers, stopping her. "No, keep it. Please."

She nods and props herself up on one elbow to look down at me. I can feel her pressed against my side. It feels just as wonderful as I remember it feeling. I take her free hand in mine and intertwine my fingers with hers.

"I met your friend Shannon," she says, looking down at our hands. Shannon? Who is Shannon? I try to think back but I'm drawing a blank. She arches a brow. "Beiste?"

Oooh! Beiste! Wow. I haven't thought about her in a very long time. "Beiste," I say with a smile as I remember her. I can't believe she met Beiste. Because that would mean she figured out the coordinates and she went to the house. I want to ask her about it. I want to ask her how she found the house. What it looked like. If she stayed there. If she liked it. If she saw where we buried my mom. But I push the questions aside and think once again about Beiste, the woman I have so many fond memories of. "How is she?"

"She's good. She prepared possibly the best turkey I have ever had."

"Oh, the turkey's," I laugh, remembering how there were always so many roaming around the trading post. "Blaine and I used to chase them away from her store in exchange for some candy."

Quinn smiles softly. "She told me."

I look at her curiously. "What else did she tell you?"

A devilish smile stretches across Quinn's face as she begins to retell all the embarrassing stories Beiste had absolutely no problem sharing with her.

* * *

**QUINN'S POV**

_"No!" I scream and race forward, rushing towards the location of the tunnels and the slowly collapsing cliff. _

_Will tosses the detonator to Ryder and throws his arms out to block me from going any further. He looks past me towards Ryder frantically. "Hit the detonator!"_

_My head snaps around to Ryder, my eyes wide and desperate. "No! What are you doing? Santana's still down there! She'll be trapped!"_

_"Hit the damn button!" Will screams over my head. _

_"No!"_

_But my words fall on deaf ears as Ryder firmly presses the button. _

_The chain of explosions on the ridge startles me. These blasts are not buried deep below. They're much closer. But it's not the deafening sound that cuts into me; it's the landslide. It's utterly terrifying. The trail that I had come down just moments ago caves in on itself in a hail of rocks and loosed earth. A moment later, we all watch in a kind of horrified awe as the Militia town atop the cliff sinks down into the mountain, becoming swallowed by the rocks. _

_Fear has paralyzed me and all the air left in my lungs feels suddenly sucked out of me. Powerless, I watch the rocks descend and pile on top of the only way in or out of the tunnels that hold Santana. _

_"We need to fall back."_

_Will's voice snaps me out of my trance and I leap forward again in a sudden panic. "No! We have to get to her! We have to go get her!"_

_"Quinn," Will pleads, tightening his hold and pulling me back against him. "You have to stop!"_

_"We can't just leave her down there! We have to go get her!" I cry out. My cheeks burn and my entire body feels as if it's on fire. I'm horrified and furious. I try to tear away from Will's grasp. I just need to get to her. _

My eyes snap open at once. I panic and sit straight up, looking around as I try to regain my bearings. The memory and heartache of losing Santana again is still as fresh and terrible as it was the first time. I frantically look for her in the darkness.

To my immediate, admittedly ridiculous relief, she hasn't gone from where I last saw her. She's still lying beside me, facing me, her lips slightly parted, her breathing slow and regular. Fast asleep. I close my eyes and exhale deeply, relieved that it was it was just a nightmare. That Santana is still here and that she's still alive.

I reach out and push the hair from her face, running my fingers along the stitches above her eye. I stare at her, continuing to touch her face until I've convinced myself that this is real and that she's really here and that she's okay.

With a sigh, I look towards the early morning light beginning to shine in through the windows. The fire has died and the room is starting to grow cold. Mindful of waking her, I carefully slip out of bed and get dressed.

I tend to the fire, re-kindling it until there's a steady blaze. Unable to help myself, I walk over and drop another kiss onto her temple and slip out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

And in the solace of the hall, the anger comes rushing back again. Just thinking about how banged up she is. About how nearly impossible it still feels that she's even alive today. It hurts. What I told her is true. My feelings for her haven't changed, but now there are new ones. And they aren't all good.

The smell of coffee hits me. I hungrily follow the scent down to the kitchen. The room is warm as the wood burning stove burns, a pot of water boiling atop it. "Good morning," Ryder greets me cheerily. He's at the table, cleaning his sidearm.

I run a hand through my tangled mess of hair. "Hey."

"Sleep well?"

"Terribly, actually." I sit down next to him, leaning back in a chair with a defeated sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I'm so exhausted but I just can't sleep. And when I do…"

He stops cleaning his gun to look at me sympathetically. "You've got a lot on your mind."

"That's an understatement," I mumble.

He watches me for a moment. "How about some coffee?" I nod and he stands to pour me some as I try to not to think about the situation with Santana. He places the mug in front of me and sits back down beside me.

I bring the mug to my lips and take a long sip, ignoring the heat. Holy shit. "This is really good," I tell him with unbridled surprise. It's an understatement, really. Probably the best cup of coffee I've ever had.

Ryder grins proudly. "It's because I use my own beans and grind them myself. I get them from this little town outside of Arlington. I know a guy, fairly shady actually, that trades them to me for ammo."

"Sounds like a fair arrangement," I smirk.

"It's the little things," he says, shrugging.

We share a smile and I take slow sips, enjoying every one. Ryder finishes assembling his gun and looks at me curiously. "Hey, I was going to go out and check Marley's traps. Do you want to come?"

I glance at the staircase, wondering if I should stay here with Santana instead. But when I turn back to Ryder, something inside of me shifts. I need to get out of the house. Even for a short amount of time. Sitting in one place for too long, alone with my thoughts, is no good. It always comes back to how angry and betrayed I feel by Santana.

I turn back to Ryder and smile. "Sure."

* * *

**SANTANA'S POV**

I'm disappointed Quinn isn't here when I wake up. But realistically I know I can't expect her to hover around me all day. The fact that we were up for so long talking and just lying together is already enough to give me hope that we'll be okay.

So I slowly get dressed, take the medicine left on the nightstand and hobble my way downstairs. The house is quiet. I go through the kitchen but no one is there despite the strong smell of freshly made coffee.

I head towards the sitting room where I see Will hunched over a smattering of papers, all spread out on the table in front of him. "Quiet in here," I say as I head for the chair opposite him.

He looks up in surprise. He must have been pretty engrossed in whatever he was reading not to hear me shambling in. "Yeah," he says. "Marley and Blaine went to trade with some neighbors before the snow gets worse and Quinn and Ryder went out to check the traps."

I frown at the idea of Quinn spending the morning with Ryder instead of me. The jealously rises within me before I can stop it. "And you're left babysitting," I grumble.

"Just like old times," he grins.

I narrow my eyes. "Funny." I fall into the chair and prop my leg up on the table, glancing at the papers in front of him. "What are you looking at?"

"Just trying to piece together some intel," he says with a sigh. "Unfortunately, we don't have a lot to go on. I'm hoping Jake will bring back something more useful than all this."

"Is he going to Arlington?" I ask and then point to the blanket draped on the back of Will's chair.

He reaches back to tug the blanket free and tosses it over. "Not this time."

"So it's a meet up," I say, placing the blanket over my lap. "And the pillow."

Will pulls the pillow out from under his elbow and tosses that at me as well. I stick it under my foot, attempting to get comfortable. "We don't want him too far away," he says carefully. Again with the cryptic shit. What the hell is going on? Who else is involved in our little group that Jake's going to meet up with? Who the hell is he meeting? "We're going to have to leave here soon," he continues quickly, apparently noticing my scrutinizing look. "It isn't safe. Not with the Militia regrouping to return."

I sigh, frustrated. The idea of all of these secret plans revolving around the fact that I'm alive is starting to piss me off. I mean I get it; it'd be dangerous if the wrong people knew I wasn't dead. But it still sucks to play all this clandestine crap. "Look, Will. I don't need to have around the clock babysitters. Like you said last night: no one knows I'm alive. The Militia isn't looking for me."

"You're right. They're not." I look at him, confused. "It's not you I'm worried about," he says suddenly. "Quinn left the Militia," he starts in a low, careful voice.

"I kind of figured considering she's here," I say slowly.

"They're looking for _her_," he explains simply. "Santana, the Militia has put a hit out on Quinn."

And there it is. The thing I've been too stupid to put together on my own while living through my own frustration. I can't catch my breath. How could I have been so blind? Of course they'd be gunning for her. This is bad. Really, really bad.

"After the explosion she went after her father," Will tells me. My eyes go wide. "Yeah," Will nods, "she was pretty fired up to say the least."

"Did she…?"

Will shakes his head. "He survived, unfortunately. But she made her point. And now he's making his."

I knew her leaving would piss them off. I knew she'd become their enemy. But I never thought that my death would make her their number one target. Some part of me thought for sure that that right would go to Will. But now her asshole father has switched his focus entirely to her. Failure. That's what I feel now. Terrible failure. All of those charges, all of the risks… that fucker was supposed to _die. _But even if he didn't, he wasn't supposed to go after of this was supposed to happen.

How could I have been so stupid? My actions didn't save her, they made her a target. No wonder no one wanted to update me.

"They're hunting Quinn," I say in utter disgust.

Will nods and leans forward pulling out one of the five or six maps on the table between us. He points at two locations that he's circled in red. "We've already gotten reports of small groups of Militia here and here."

I hold my hand out for the map and Will obliges by handing it to me. Both areas are closer than I'm comfortable with. And that's when it hits me. "You haven't told her any of this have you?" I ask deadpan.

"She knows they're after her. I tried explaining they were looking for her, but I don't think she realizes the severity," he says honestly.

The anger rushes to the surface as I consider all the pieces in place. "Why did you bring her _here_? Out in the open for the Militia to just swoop in and - "

"Why do you think?" he interrupts. "If it were the other way around, wouldn't you want to go to her?"

Of course I would. Without hesitation. But that's different. This is about _her_ safety. Not mine. "That's not the point," I snap.

"That's very much the point, Santana. You're alive. Blaine and I felt she should know. That she should have a choice as to whether or not to come to you." He too, sounds angry.

Okay, so fine, I get it. I could've pretty much guaranteed that Quinn would have come on her own if she had to once she knew I was alive. But someone should've talked to me about it first. They should've come to me instead of going to Quinn. I would've found a way to _her_ instead.

Will's expression softens. "Look, we are where we are now. So now we need to figure out our next steps. We need to get you _both_ someplace safe."

He's right. There's no point in fussing over the past now. It's only a matter of time before the Militia figures out where we are. The seven of us won't be able to hold off the entire army, or even a Company when they figure out we're here. And they _will_ figure out we're here. We've got to act fast. But first, I need more information. "Tell me everything you know."

Will gets up and brings several papers with him, handing them to me and looking over my shoulder as I slowly examine each of them. "So far we've heard murmurs of Russell still being in the area. There were rumors that he was here with the majority of the survivors." He points to a location about three days East of here. "A Militia courier was intercepted here with a message calling everyone to arms." He points to another location even further East indicating that he's sending messages to his troops further in that direction.

"Where are they regrouping?" I ask, pouring over the map.

"We don't know. The courier wouldn't talk," he sighs. "But they're definitely regrouping. And I have a feeling he's pulling everyone out here. From both the East and the South."

"And Quinn? Has anyone said anything about her?"

"All we know is that Russell wants her. Preferably alive but," he pauses. He doesn't need to finish. "They're making it known too. It's no secret. There's a pretty big reward for any sort of information on her whereabouts."

"She should've stayed at the house," I sigh.

"She would've been alone. It would've been a death sentence if she were found," he points out. "The best we can hope for is that someone in that direction takes the Militia up on their offer and throws off their scent."

I shake my head. "You and I both know they would never run to the Militia with information."

"I don't know, Santana. There seem to be traitors everywhere these days." He hands me another map and points to another red circle. "A Company was spotted here several days ago heading in that direction."

"They're fanning out." I draw an invisible line with my finger in a semi-circle just outside of our area. "Almost like they're setting up to regroup in several locations so they can flank this area. Canvas the area from here and push their way west," I say pushing the invisible line in our direction. "We need to move out of this area before they completely surround our location. They'll be no getting out otherwise."

"What is this?"

Quinn's voice startles me out of my thoughts. I turn to see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at me and Will. Ryder walks up behind her and stares as well. "Just some maps," I tell her honestly.

"Maps of what?" she questions. Before she finished the sentence, she's at the table and has swiped the map from my hand. After a moment, her eyes widen. She looks at me in disbelief. "What _is_ this? Are you planning on attacking again?"

I clench my jaw, not sure how to answer. Will clears his throat to interject. "Eventually, yes. But right now we need to go on the defense. Come up with a plan. I think it's best we react sooner rather than - "

"Santana can barely walk!" Quinn yells, rounding on him with malice in her eyes.

"Quinn," I say softly.

But she ignores me, her eyes focused on Will as she tosses the map at him. "She's been conscious for what? Four days? And you're already plotting to advance?"

Will shakes his head. "Quinn, we need to know what they're planning. If we can stop them before they -"

"I don't care!" she yells. "The last time you two plotted together you ended up dead! Remember?" Will says nothing. When she looks back at me, I can see the accusations written plainly on her face. And the hurt. The betrayal. "You're not even healthy and you're talking about going back out there? What's it gonna be this time? Another bomb? Are you going to hobble into their camps with it strapped to your chest? "

I stare at her, speechless. She's pissed. I get it. And I probably deserve that, but it still hurts like hell to hear.

"Quinn," Will chastises.

She shakes her head. "I can't believe you," she says before turning around and rushing out of the house through the back, letting the door slam behind her.

No one says anything. I knew Quinn was holding a lot in, I knew she was hurting, but I had no idea those were the thoughts she was holding on to. Ryder starts to inch his way to the back door. "I'll go check on her."

"No," I say, stopping him. I need to fix this. Right now. "I'll go."

No one tries to stop me as I get up to follow her outside.

* * *

**QUINN'S POV**

I try to catch my breath. My chest hurts as I attempt to regain control over my emotions. I never meant to yell at her like that. Despite meaning every single word, I had wanted to wait until I could have a calm conversation with her. Not scream accusations at her in front of Will and Ryder.

I should go back in there. We should talk about this. I need to tell her calmly how I feel. But I'm just so angry. I need to settle down before I even think of bringing this up with her again.

"Wow it's really getting cold out here." I glance over my shoulder and see her walking into the barn. "Guess that's what happens when you sleep for a few weeks, huh? Go to bed when it's autumn and wake up when it's winter." She smiles at her own joke but I'm not amused. I still can't believe she finds any kind of humor in what happened. And I definitely can't believe she's making jokes right now. I turn away. "Nothing? Not even a _little_ smile?"

"Excuse me if I don't find _any _of this funny," I snap, refusing to look at her. I can feel her get closer. She doesn't say a word. I spin around and look at her angrily. "Do you even know how hard this has been for me?" She still says nothing. "I've lost everything. _Everything._ My family. My friends. My home. And even though it made me sad, even though it was hard, I knew I could get through it because we were going to be together. Because I had you. And then you just blew yourself up like I meant nothing. Like it didn't matter."

"That is _not_ true," she says as though I've just slapped her across the face. "I can't image what you've had to go through. How much pain I've caused you. But I did what I thought was best for my friends and my family. For you." I can see the tears forming in her eyes. "I had no idea I was going to make it out of there alive. But I tried. _For you_."

I look away, the stinging in my eyes becoming too much. I don't think I'm ready to hear about what happened down there. So I don't ask. Instead, I stare upwards at the roof of the barn and will myself not to cry. But it's of no use. The tears come and I shake my head, frustrated. "I am so _angry_ at you!" I yell. I bring my eyes back to hers. "How could you do that? How could you just leave without…" I turn away, wiping at my traitorous eyes as my angry front gives way to the real heartache I feel. "I didn't even get to say goodbye," I whisper. "You didn't even give me that."

She starts to move forward but stops when I flinch at her advance. "Quinn, I'm sorry."

"Every single night I watch you die," I choke out. "Every time I close my eyes I see it over and over again."

This time she does take a step forward. "Quinn, I'm right here. I'm not dead. I'm alive and I'm here."

"But for how long?" I snap.

This time, she's the one who flinches. "That's not fair."

I wipe in frustration at my eyes. "You're right. And making a decision like that all on your own without anyone else having any kind of say _isn't_ fair."

"What was I supposed to do? Leave Blaine down there to do it? Have the Militia come after my friends and family when I was in a position to stop them?" she asks bitterly. I look away from her. "How could I live with myself?"

I snap my head back in her direction. "We would've figured out another way!"

"You don't know that!" she yells. "You think I wanted to die? To just disappear forever?"

"You planned for it!" I accuse.

"I always plan for it! We're in the middle of a war, Quinn!" she reminds me angrily. "And people die _every single day!_"

"Not the people that I love!" I scream. Whatever she was going to say falls short on her lips. She looks at me, startled. I take several deep breaths, the pain I feel threatening to crush my insides. "When you died, it felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I couldn't breathe. It felt like I was constantly suffocating," I confess. She takes a step closer to me and this time I don't flinch. "I can't go through that again, Santana. And I don't care how selfish that is. If it comes down to someone dying, if it comes down to you or them, I'm going to pick them every single time. I will always pick _you_ to live."

"Say it again," she says, tucking both crutches under one arm. I look at her, confused. She takes that one final step and presses herself into me. Her eyes are on mine as she props her crutches against the workbench. She uses me for balance instead. "Tell me you love me," she says quietly.

I feel myself sink into her. I reach out and put my hands on her waist to steady her. The way she's looking at me… suddenly all of my anger and hurt slips away. She waits patiently as I look at her, not realizing I had voiced that confession aloud. But I don't regret it. "I love you," I whisper, pulling her closer.

I've barely said the words before Santana's lips are on mine, kissing me deeply, frantically.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly to me as we kiss. It's heated and passionate. It screams, "I want you. I need you." I kiss her back angrily. Lovingly. Every emotion inside of me comes out in that one kiss. It's sloppy and desperate. It's absolutely perfect.

My hips thrust forward, not realizing how badly I need her to touch me until that very moment.

She understands immediately and lowers her hand to push my coat upwards, reaching for the button on my pants, working on it quickly. I thrust forward again, trying to get some sort of friction from her hand but it's no longer there.

Instead, it darts down into my waistband, where she begins rubbing along the outside of my underwear. I choke back a moan and bite my lip. I look down at her hand, working against me. I wonder briefly if she should be doing this. It might be too much for her injuries. Maybe we should wait until she's feeling better. "Santana, you're hurt," I say regrettably.

Her response is something between a grunt and moan, but she doesn't stop. In fact, she does the opposite; I feel her slip her hand inside my underwear. I hiss as her cold fingers come in contact with my skin. But the cold is replaced just quickly by an incredible feeling of warmth.

A tingling shoots up from my thighs and spreads throughout me. I moan as I thrust my hips forward, urging her to quicken the pace.

She teases me for only a moment longer before easily slipping a single finger inside of me. When I open my mouth to gasp at the sensation, she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeply.

I put one hand behind me on the edge of the counter for support, my legs feeling weak. I tangle my fingers into her hair with my free hand and arch my back, continuing to thrust myself against her. I try to spread my legs apart further, to wrap around her waist, but my pants restrict my movements. Groaning in frustration, I rock my hips in time with her finger slipping in and out of me.

As my movements grow more desperate, she easily adds a second finger. I can't keep the moan that rips from my throat. I pull her head closer and suck her tongue into my mouth as I feel myself coming completely undone at her touch.

I can only take it for so long before I wrench my mouth away and suck in a deep breath. Her lips find my neck and she drags her mouth along my skin, her teeth nipping lightly as she goes.

I squeeze my eyes shut, holding on as long as I can. But the second she bites down onto my neck, there's nothing I can do. I press my mouth to the side of her head and let out a strangled cry as I ride out my orgasm.

Only Santana's touch could unravel me so completely. I'd be embarrassed at how quick I was if I wasn't so content to collapse in her arms.

We stay perfectly still, her fingers still inside of me, my face buried in her hair and her face pressed against my neck. I feel her hot breath on my skin as we both try to slow our breathing. My arms stay wrapped around her, not wanting to let this moment go, not wanting to let _her _go.

But she shivers unexpectedly and gently pulls her fingers from my pants. I groan at the loss of her inside of me and open my eyes to look at her. Only then do I realize she isn't wearing a coat. "Santana," I chastise. "You need to get back inside." She smirks and I realize then how my words could be interpreted. "I mean back in the house."

She chuckles and leans back to look at me "I love you, Quinn." She runs her hand through my hair. "I won't leave you like that again, okay? I'm right here. I'm not leaving you."

"Promise?" I know I sound like a scared, desperate little girl. But I need to hear it. I need to hear her say the words.

"I promise," she says softly. She lightly kisses me. I want so badly to believe her. "Are you still mad at me?" she asks with a smile.

"Furious," I tell her. And I am. But at least it's out in the open. At least now I've unloaded everything I've been holding back and she knows exactly how I feel. But maybe now we can work on it and move on.

She pulls my hips closer to her and smiles, keeping her forehead pressed to mine. "Too mad to take me up on that bath?"

I lean forward and kiss her, smiling. I don't think I could ever be _that_ mad at her.

* * *

**I can't thank you all enough for the nice messages and reviews. And ****_especially_**** thank you for sticking with this story and following it into Part ll. That's so awesome. **


	3. Chapter 3

**SANTANA'S POV**

"You might as well just give up," I tell him seriously.

He shakes his head, never lifting his eyes. "Spartan never recoil! Spartan never yield!"

I laugh and lean back in my chair with a smug smirk. "You're not going to beat me."

Quinn continues to sharpen her knives but glances curiously over in our direction. "I dunno," she says skeptically. "He might."

I turn to her in disbelief. "So now you're rooting for him?"

Blaine peels his eyes away from the board between us to smile fondly at Quinn. "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Oh, give me a break," I say, rolling my eyes. I nod at the chessboard. "Just make your move."

Ryder sighs as he reassembles his assault rifle. I notice him lean in closer to Quinn. "Do you want something to drink?"

She smiles. "Some tea would be great."

I narrow my eyes as he returns her smile. I'm not sure I like the way he seems to tend to her. As if sensing my thoughts, he clears his throat and turns to the rest of us. "Would anyone else like anything?"

Will and Marley both agree that some tea would be nice. Blaine and I both shake our heads no. Quinn puts down her knives and stands. "I'll help you."

I watch the two of them leave the room. Suddenly I'm very curious about how long this new friendship has been going on. I wonder briefly if I should be concerned.

"I hope Jake is okay," Marley sighs. When I look in her direction, she's staring off blankly through the window.

"I'm sure he's fine," Will says, looking up from the maps and correspondence he's been agonizing over for the past two days. "He should be back soon."

Marley stands and walks closer to the window. "At least the snow stopped."

"I'm sure it will pick up again soon," I mumble as I wait for Blaine to make his move. I see Will shoot me a look from the corner of my eyes. "What?" I ask, crossly. He motions towards Marley staring worriedly out of the window and I sink into my chair. "Well it _is_ winter," I point out.

Will sighs and goes back to his maps.

I try and push my irritation away but it only grows when Quinn and Ryder return. I don't like them both smiling like that. Quinn glances at him and he shakes his head. Some conversation the rest of us aren't aware of. I don't like it.

I watch them carefully as Ryder hands one of the mugs to Marley and another to Will. He sits back in his seat, his eyes briefly lifting to look at Quinn before going back to cleaning his rifle.

Quinn places a mug on the table in front of me and then perches on the arm of the chair. I look at her curiously, wondering why she brought me tea when I indicated I didn't care for any. She winks and casually drapes her arm over my shoulders. I can't help but lean into her touch.

Blaine finally takes his turn. "Your move, Merrick," he grins.

Damn. That was a good play. Quinn takes a slow sip from her tea and begins to trace light, mindless circles on my back. The tension I felt moments ago melts. But it sure as hell doesn't help my chess game; I try to focus on my next move but all I feel is Quinn's hand on me.

I know we aren't okay yet. I know we still have a lot to talk about, but for now, I'm more than happy to just live in the moment. For tonight, I want to just be Santana and Quinn and not worry about anything else.

After another moment of scrutinizing the board, I make my next move. Quinn hums in approval. Her hand moves to the back of my neck, her fingers gently massaging my skin. My eyes feel heavy and my body shudders. I suddenly realize how tired I am.

Blaine scratches his beard thoughtfully and takes his time, his brows furrowed in concentration. He's losing. And he knows it. But he won't give up. Not until the game is over and done. I bring my tea towards me and take slow sips, staring down at the board and fighting off the sleepiness. And after what appears to be painful deliberation, he moves his rook out of guard.

I try not to grin too broadly. It was a valiant effort, but it's clear by the move that Blaine knew it was useless. I move my queen in for the kill. "Checkmate," I announce, knocking over his king. Blaine runs his hands through his hair and sits back with a frown. He hates losing almost as much as I do. "Next time, Grizzly Adams," I say with a smile.

Blaine extends his hand. "I want to congratulate you on a game well played."

I reach out and shake his hand. I love Blaine. Always a gentleman. When I pull away, I can't help but yawn. I've been staying up later than usual. I'm ready for bed. I roll my leg off the footstool and get ready to stand.

Quinn hops off the armrest and hands me my crutches. "Well, it's getting late. I think we're gonna go get some sleep," she announces.

Marley puts down her book. "Do you have your medicine?"

"Upstairs," I confirm.

Blaine begins to set the board up for another game and shoots me a smile. "Sleep tight, hotshot."

Quinn picks up my mug of cold tea from the table and leans in close. "Let me just take these into the kitchen. I'll be right back."

I give her a nod and tuck the crutches under my arms, slowly making my way to the stairs. "More walking tomorrow," Marley tells me as I go.

I smile. "You got it."

Will gets up quickly and walks over. "We really need to come up with a plan," he says in a low voice. "And I think it's time you tell Quinn how serious things are."

"I'm pretty sure she knows," I tell him. I'm not in the mood for this right now. Ryder is watching us closely, though he does his best to hide it. I lean in closer to Will and shoot him a look. "We'll figure it out. Tomorrow."

"Santana," he sighs.

"Tomorrow," I say firmly as Quinn walks back from the kitchen, a lantern in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other.

She says goodnight to the others and then stops next to me. "Ready?"

"Yeah." I shoot Will one last look and take the stairs, Quinn close behind.

"How's your leg? Does it hurt?" Quinn asks as I make my way down the hallway.

She opens the bedroom door for me and I head straight for the bed. "Not really," I half-lie and sit down on the edge. I pivot so I can pull my leg up on the bed. "But it fucking itches," I say, banging roughly on the cast.

Quinn places the lantern and water on the nightstand and turns wordlessly to walk towards dresser. When she comes back, she has my straightened out hanger in her hand. "Here," she chuckles and hands the wire to me. I take it gratefully and begin to thread it down under the cast. "How much longer do you have to wear that?"

It takes a moment to wiggle it under and get to the trouble spot. "Marley thinks another week or two. Then we can switch to a soft cast that'll make moving around easier. My wrist feels better too. Well, the crutches don't help, putting all that weight on it. But the more I move around the better my leg feels. Funny how that works," I tell her with a smile.

Quinn starts a new fire in the fireplace. I watch appreciatively as she stokes the flames. Once the tinder is good and blazing, she gets up and pours me a glass of water and grabs one of my medicine bottles. "And your ribs?" She hands me the pill bottle and glass of water.

I shake out two small capsules and swallow them with a large sip of water. "It hurts when I take deep breaths, but Marley thinks I'm just about healed." I rub at my sides subconsciously. Quinn takes the glass of water and medicine and turns away with a frown. "I guess that's what being in a coma for that long is good for. Healing all your breaks," I say, trying to lighten the mood.

She places the glass of water and medicine on the nightstand. She doesn't turn around. Instead, she remains perfectly still, her back towards me. I want to apologize. This is the second time I've tried to diffuse the tension with a joke and failed miserably. Quinn's soft voice stops me from voicing my regret. "I'm sorry I lashed out at you."

I reach out to her, stretching as far as I can without slipping off the bed. My fingertips barely graze the back of her arm, but it's enough to make her turn towards me. "No. No don't be sorry." I take her hand and pull her closer. "I hurt you and that's not okay." I wrap my arms around her waist and lean forward, resting my cheek against her stomach, holding her tightly. "Look, I know we have a lot to talk about -"

"Not tonight," she interrupts gently. She drags her fingers through my hair as I hold on to her.

I close my eyes and nod. "Not tonight."

* * *

It starts the same as it always does. The familiar scene that seems to haunt my dreams over and over...

_I'm making a dead sprint towards my father. _

_I pick up my father's discarded pistols and cock them both, intent on killing them all. "Dad!" I scream again as I run wildly towards him. Again, he seems not to hear me. He starts to pull something dark and round from the bag. The expressions on the faces of the men surrounding him turn instantly from threatening to threatened. A naked fear. Suddenly, their guns are down and they're stumbling amongst themselves to run away from my father. _

_One of them regains enough composure and spins, firing a quick few shots at my father. I see his body jerk backward from the impact. "Dad!" _

_The sight has me squeezing both triggers. Somewhere far behind me I hear Will calling my name. He's screaming at someone to stop. Is it me? Is it the man firing at my father? It doesn't matter. None of that matters._

_I aim for their chests, both for the bigger target and for the prolonged pain it'll cause. I shoot until all I hear is a constant click click click. And then I keep pulling despite knowing I've emptied both mags. _

_I've killed four more. Maybe five. That doesn't matter either. The rest keep running._

_I look towards my father. Even at distance I can see the red blossoming underneath his tan shirt. _

_Only this time, something shifts. Something in this particular dream feels off. _

_I start to move but it isn't me running. It's Quinn. She runs desperately to my father. Only it isn't my father raising his hands higher into the air. It's me. _I'm_ the one holding the discs._ I'm_ the one holding the cluster mines._

_Quinn reaches out toward me. "No! Santana don't -"_

_But the blast knocks her off her feet. She lands hard on the ground. Somehow she manages to sit up in her confused and incoherent state. She wipes at her forehead, her fingertips coated in blood. _

_Will appears from the dust. He pulls Quinn to her feet with one, hard tug. _

_She turns to look for me but I'm no longer there. No one is there. Just a small crater where the Militia once stood. _

_"Come on. We have to leave," Will yells loudly. Quinn shakes her head, tears streaming down her face._

_"Santana?" _

_She sounds so small. So hurt. So broken._

_"Santana," she says a little louder. "Santana. Santana!"_

I jolt awake with a gasp.

Quinn hovers above me, her hands on my shoulders. Even in the darkness, I can see her worried expression. "Are you okay?" she asks, placing her hand on my cheek.

Her touch is steadying as I try to push away dream from reality. "Yeah," I say breathlessly. "Yeah. Just a nightmare."

She brushes the hair from my face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

My eyes meet hers and flashes of her crying and screaming my name fill my mind. I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. The bed shifts and I feel her lips press lightly on my cheek, placing slow, loving kisses along my face.

Her lips meet mine and she leaves them there, lingering until I part my mouth and kiss her back. And that's how we remain until the tension leaves my body and I find myself drifting to sleep once more.

But despite it all, I never do find my way back to peaceful sleep. I'm haunted by something that used to exist only in the farthest recesses of my brain. Something I've been trying to deny since first realizing it. There's no denying it anymore: I did the same thing to Quinn that my father did to me.

I look at her sleeping in my arms and I feel as though I'm going to be sick.

* * *

**QUINN'S POV**

I wouldn't say I'm staring, but I might as well be. I can't help stealing long, questioning glances at her. She's just too quiet this morning. Something feels… off. And despite her occasional smile in my direction, I know whatever she dreamed of last night is still on her mind.

Santana pushes her oatmeal around in the bowl with her spoon. She has a faraway look in her eyes. On the other side of the kitchen, Marley is too busy washing vegetables and preparing lunch to notice anything out of the ordinary.

But I can tell Blaine senses something amiss. He watches her carefully as he sips his coffee, glancing occasionally in my directly. I give him a small shrug and continue to eat.

He leans in close to her. "I don't have to be psychic to see that something's bothering you," he says softly.

"Didn't sleep well," she mutters.

He frowns. "You sound like you're in a great deal of pain."

Santana sits back with a heavy sigh and finally pushes the bowl away from her. "Something like that."

Before either of us can comment, there's a loud banging on the back door that causes us all to turn. "What the hell?" Santana asks as she reaches for her crutches.

Marley grabs a pistol hidden in a nearby drawer and peeks out of the curtain covering the backdoor window. Will and Ryder appear instantly, guns drawn. "What's going on?" Ryder asks me in a low voice. I shake my head. I have no idea.

Marley lowers her pistol and unlocks the door, swinging it open hurriedly. "Jake!"

Jake stumbles in, his hand under his jacket, clutching at his side. I stand from my chair, instinctively stepping in front of Santana. He glances up at us and leans against the counter, a gun in his other hand. "Lock the door and get your guns," he orders breathlessly.

"What?" Will asks as he rushes to the back door to peer outside.

Jake wipes away the sweat from his forehead. "They followed me."

"Who?" Will asks glancing back at Jake. "Who followed you?"

"The Militia."

Santana stands from the table, tucking her crutches under arm and pushes past me towards Jake. "And you led them _here?_" she asks furiously. I put my hand out to stop her, but it's too late, she's already out of my reach. "How many?"

Jake shakes his head and winces. "Seven. Maybe eight. I'm not sure."

"Are you fucking insane?" Santana roars.

"We need to split up," I say urgently. "It might be easier to pick them off." I glance at Ryder as he takes off up the stairs, Blaine doing the same.

Marley reaches out to steady Jake. She inadvertently pushes his jacket back as she does. Her eyes go wide when she sees the blood that covers his shirt. "You're hurt!"

"I'm okay," he assures her.

Santana turns to me. "Is your rifle upstairs?"

"Yeah, in the bag."

"I'll take the higher level. Snipe from the windows," she says. I know has to frustrate her that that's about the extent of all she'll be able to do with her injury. No one is dumb enough to mention it however.

"Blaine, you're with me," Will instructs as he and Ryder return, guns in hand. "We'll head to the barns and take them out if they try and come around back. Ryder, you and Quinn take the front. Watch the tree line. Marley, stay here with Jake and keep them out of the house. Got it?"

My eyes find Santana's. "No. I'll stay here." I say. All I can think about is making sure Santana is safe. If they breach the house, there's no way she'd be able to fend off more than one.

"There's no time to argue this!" Will shouts.

He could bark orders until he's blue in the face. I don't care. All that matters is Santana. "I'm staying!"

I turn to Santana and her eyes soften. "It's okay. Just go," she says. "I'll cover you from up top."

I don't like the idea of leaving her. Not at all. "You sure?"

She nods and starts to make her way towards the staircase before I can argue. Ryder hands me the SMG from my duffel. I check the mag and nod at him; it's loaded and ready to go.

"Quinn," Santana calls out. I turn to look at her on the staircase. "Be careful."

"You too," I tell her seriously. I'm not happy about this, but I know better than to waste the time arguing with her right now.

Ryder heads to the far window and peers outside. "Nothing yet," he says. "We should be safer inside. The walls will give us better cover than the trees."

"And obstruct our view," I tell him as I slip on my jacket. I have every intention of going outside to face them, but for the moment, I know he's right. There's no telling if they're already here, just waiting for us to come out.

I hear Marley's muffled voice ushering Jake to sit as she tries to tend to him and watch out the back at the same time. I'm suddenly more than a little concerned at how much of a fight she'd be able to put up if they breach through that back door.

I go to the other front window and peer through the curtain. I scan the tree line. It's quiet. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. A thin layer of snow covers the ground, which is a great line of defense for us; it's easy to see only two sets of footprints out there. Both are from this morning's trip to the well. At least we know they haven't come close to the house.

There's no breeze. Just overcast, ominous looking skies. We wait in silence. Minutes feel like hours. Nothing. I glance at Ryder. He looks back at me with carefully guarded anxiety. I know the feeling.

"Maybe Jake lost them," Ryder suggests.

I shake my head. "They're out there." If it's a recon party like I think it is, then they're definitely out there.

And that's when I see it: a quick flash of grey from deep within the trees.

Ryder straightens. He's seen it too.

And then there's another.

And another.

They're here.

Still we wait. Let them make the first move. Let them commit first. We're the ones with the better cover. All we have to do is defend. Several long minutes go by with no additional movement. I realize they're waiting us out as well.

The frighteningly loud pops of gunfire that erupt from the back of the house make both Ryder and I jump. Suddenly, everything seems to happen at once.

They emerge from the trees firing. The first hail of bullets slaps against the house and I drop to my belly, flattening myself on the floor and wait for a break in the action. When it comes, I immediately move to a crouch and blind fire back over the window ledge.

They return fire almost immediately. And that's how it goes for three endless minutes. We aren't getting anywhere with this method. "Do you see how many?" I ask Ryder.

"At least three," he says. "But I can't tell. Every time I try and look they shoot at my face."

I risk another glance outside, but I'm not looking for Militia. I'm looking for another form of cover. I don't get a long look before the gunfire starts again, but it's enough. I found exactly what I was looking for. I begin crawling towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" Ryder asks as I reach for the door handle.

"I can't see," I tell him.

"Are you crazy?" he hisses. I turn the handle and open it a crack. "Quinn!"

"I need you to stay here. Draw their fire so I can get out to the woodpile." He shakes his head and starts to protest. I hold up a hand and motion to the steps behind me. "Don't let them up that staircase!"

I pull myself up to a crouch and plant my feet, ready to run. He gives me one final look before turning back to the window and firing at the tree line. It's enough. The return fire doesn't come right away. I take the chance to bolt out the front door. I hop over the rail and I'm down on the ground within seconds, the woodpile just ahead. I dive behind it and put my back up to it.

The battlefield is completely different from this angle; I can see them now. Very clearly. There's a man scaling the side of the porch to my left. I fire two quick bursts and catch him flat in the chest. One down.

As expected, his partners turn and start to fire at my position. Splinters of wood hit my face as their bullets tear through the softened logs. I have a brief, horrified moment to wonder if this was a poor choice of cover. Too late now, though. I'm here. I make the best of it by slinking down as low as I can. I poke the short SMG barrel around the corner and return fire blindly.

The good news is: between my gunfire and Ryder's, we seem to have them stuck between two angles of fire. The bad news: I hope there aren't more of them out there, coming from the woods to flank me. And without any spare magazines on me, I have to limit the amount of return fire I can spare. Maybe we'll all run out of bullets and have to take to hand to hand combat.

I don't have my knives. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I really hope it doesn't come to that.

A loud crack echoes through the air and suddenly the bullets stop pinging into the woodpile. I remain ducked behind cover having no idea how many are left. Two? Three? I hear the gunfire from the back the house but here, in front, it's back to being quiet.

Seconds go by. Then a minute. Nothing happens. No more shots come my way. Another minute. I take a deep breath and, ever-so-slowly, raise my head up to peek over the pile. No movement, but I do see the dead Militia soldier about 50 meters away that Santana successfully tagged from above.

Then something moves to my immediate right. Someone emerging from the trees; Militia, flanking me like I'd feared. I'm exposed. He raises his gun. I stagger back, tripping on loosened branches underfoot. There's a loud crack of thunder. The soldier's neck disappears in a red spray, his head snapping back violently. He's dead before he ever hits the ground.

I look back over my shoulder towards the second floor window, I can't see her, but I can see the smoke from her rifle's barrel drifting off into the sky. My guardian angel.

Another soldier down.

That's three. But I have the sneaking suspicion there's at least one more hidden within the trees.

It's quiet once more. I hear Will in the distance, calling out the all clear. I wonder how many were back there and if we really were up against only three Militia soldiers here in the front.

I glance at the front steps and at the open door of the house.

I count to ten and take a deep breath before pushing myself out of a crouched position. I sprint flat-out towards the front of the house.

I see a flash of grey step out from the trees to my right, my movements drawing him out. He fires one shot, the bullet whizzing past, slicing through the sleeve of my coat. I dive desperately for the open door, bracing myself for the bullet I'm convinced is heading my way. My shoulder cracks solidly against the frame but I make it into the foyer just as there's another loud crack from the upstairs window.

I kick the door closed with the heel of my boot and let out a long, relieved breath, leaning against the bottom of the staircase.

That was way too close.

* * *

**SANTANA'S POV**

I have to grab the railing to keep from falling as I practically slide down the stairs to get to Quinn. She's there, leaning against the wall in just inside the front hall. Talking to Ryder.

She turns when I reach the bottom and takes a step towards me. I close the distance and grab her shoulders, holding her out and away from me so that I can frantically look her over for obvious wounds. Ryder steps away to go look out the windows again. "Are you hit? Did they get you?" My eyes fall to the hole in the arm of her jacket.

"No I'm fine," she says, shaking her head.

I keep looking despite her insistence, but see nothing telling. Relief washes over me. "I'm sorry it took me so long, they fired in the back first and I thought Will and Blaine would've gotten themselves pinned in the barn. Then by the time I could get to the front - "

"Santana," she says, reaching out and taking my hands in her own, "I'm okay."

"Is everyone alright?" Will asks as he walks into the room, the others close behind him.

"Yeah," Ryder says from the windows. "We're all clear out front."

Jake hesitantly steps into the room behind Marley, his shirt stained with blood, his hand still on his side.

My hands tighten around my crutches and my jaw clenches at the sight of him. Angrily, I make my way over, bumping into Will on the way and causing Blaine to have to step to the side. Jake's eyes widen when he realizes my eyes are locked on him.

I twist the front of his shirt in my hands and pull him in so that he's inches from my face. I let the crutches fall. Marley squeaks out a noise of protest and moves towards us, but ultimately ends up just hovering. She makes no move to restrain me. Neither does anyone else. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?" I hiss. "Bringing Militia here when we're supposed to be keeping out sight? Are you fucking stupid?"

Jake straightens and juts his chin out. "I liked our odds."

I pull him closer to me. "Arrogant bastard." I clench a fist. It's been so long since I've really laid someone out.

This time Marley does step forward. "Santana!" She reaches out to grab my arm but hesitates.

"I don't care what the odds are. I don't care if you're bleeding out and on the verge of death. If the Militia is chasing you, then you lead them far away until you have no breath left in your body," I tell him seriously. "I'm going to let you live today because I owe Marley one for saving my life. But if you ever lead them to us again, I will end you."

Jake clenches his jaw but says nothing.

I release him and turn to face everyone else. Only Quinn and Will meet my eyes. "Pack your stuff. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Marley asks in disbelief. "We can't leave."

"She's right," Ryder says quietly. "It's too dangerous out there right now."

Before I can tell Ryder just how little his input actually means, Will interjects, turning to Jake. "What information did you get?"

Jake winces and calls out in pain. "I need to get him cleaned up," Marley says and reaches out to steady him. "Then you can talk." She shoots us all a look that says not to argue. And because it's Marley, I don't push it. She eases him back into the kitchen.

I try to reach down for my crutches but it's nearly impossible with the full leg cast. Blaine picks them up for me with a smile. Despite the gesture, I'm still incensed. The anger starts in the pit of my stomach and rapidly spreads throughout my body. My lungs feel heavy and the air feels almost too thick to breathe. Suddenly, I want to be anywhere but in this room.

I turn and lope towards the front door and out of the house without another word. The cold air hits my face and I pull in a deep breath, trying to calm down.

I've barely made it down the porch stairs when I hear hurried footsteps behind me. "Where are you going?"

I take long strides around the side of the house, not bothering to turn around. "To saw off this damn cast," I mutter.

"Santana."

I glance down at the downed Militia near the entrance of the barn. "Someone needs to take care of all these bodies," I state, more than command.

"Santana." I don't answer. "Santana stop!" I make my way to the back of the barn and begin rummaging through the toolbox. "What are you thinking?

"I'm thinking I want this damn thing off!" I snap as I finally find a small handsaw at the bottom of the box.

"Would you look at me?" She reaches out and grabs my arm, spinning me around. I wobble slightly but manage to stay upright. I lift my gaze to her eyes. She looks irritated. "Leaving? Where are we going to go?" I don't answer right away. Instead I glance at the saw in my hand. Quinn sighs.

"Arlington," I tell her.

My eyes meet hers and her expression softens. "You can't make it to Arlington like that," she says gently. I grip the saw, pushing myself off of the workbench and brush past her. "Santana."

I spin back around. "We can't stay here! Even if we stopped them this time, there's no telling what will happen when the next group finds us! What do I have to do to get you all to understand that?"

"No one is going to lead them here again," she says carefully.

"It doesn't matter! They found us once; they'll find us again. They're pushing in. Soon they'll be right on top of us and we won't be able to stop them. They are going to keep looking until they find you." I take a deep breath and remind myself that it's not her that I'm angry with. I'm angry at myself. "I won't let them find you," I tell her, my voice softening. My eyes stay on hers. She takes a step towards me, but I turn away. Back towards the house. "Tell Marley when she's done patching up her boyfriend to meet me upstairs."

* * *

"I still don't think this is a good idea."

"I know," I tell her as Marley tightens the new walking boot over my much smaller cast.

"You're still going to need your crutches for awhile," she tells me. "Even though you can walk without it, I don't recommend it. Your leg isn't fully healed." I push myself up from the chair and clench my teeth at the pain from resting my weight on my leg without support. "How does it feel?"

"Fine. Thanks." I shift the weight to my good leg and sit back down, inspecting the much shorter cast. This one only comes halfway up my leg. And the walking boot on top of it will allow me to move around much easier.

Marley reaches out and pushes the hair from my face to inspect me closer. She runs her fingers over the stitches she's left in above my eye. "We can take these out too." She reaches for a pair of medical scissors within her med kit and places one hand on the back of my head. "Hold still." I don't move as she begins to carefully cut away at the stitches. After a few quiet moments, she finally says what I know she's wanted to say all day. "I know you're mad at Jake, but I don't think he meant any harm. He just did what he thought was best at the time. He was hurt and - "

"Marley," I start, "don't."

She quiets instantly, focusing instead on the removal of the final stitches. I feel the last cut go. As she turns to put her tools back and clean up, I finger the spot above my brow and feel the scar that I know will permanently remain. "Are you sure Quinn doesn't know anything? About what's going on?"

I turn to look at her. "What?"

She closes her bag and looks hesitantly in my direction. "I mean, she's Militia. Right? Or she used to be."

I can feel the anger surfacing again. "That's right. She _used_ to be. Are you implying that she's lying to us? Because, in case you forgot, she wasn't the one who led them here. She wasn't the one who nearly got us killed."

Marley's eyes grow wide and she shakes her head. "No! That's not what I meant. It's just that, maybe she knows something that can help. Like strategies or something."

If it wasn't for Marley's kind nature I would've closed in on her. "If Quinn knows anything that could help, she will tell us," I say as patiently as I can.

"I'm sorry. It's just that Jake - "

"Maybe Jake needs to stop shooting his mouth off about things he has no idea about," I snap. The last thing I want to hear about is Jake. Not after today.

Marley looks away, her expression regretful and hurt. "I didn't mean to upset you."

My voice softens as I reach out to lightly touch her arm. "I appreciate absolutely everything you've done for me and my friends. But as for Quinn… she's off limits. Okay? She's with me. She's not a threat."

She looks at me for a moment. For the first time, I see anger in her eyes too. Her mouth is shut tight, her lips thin. I see her clench her teeth and work her jaw muscles. She pulls away from my touch. "Neither is Jake," she fires back before storming out of the room.

* * *

**QUINN'S POV**

Santana's eyes are fixated on Jake, barely blinking, as she sits in a chair facing him in the dining room. Will and Blaine stand behind her. Neither say a word. It's immediately obvious that they're going to let Santana take the lead.

Marley stands behind Jake, wringing her hands over and over. She's his only ally right now. Ryder sits at the other side of the table, showing no alliance one way or another.

I cross my arms and lean against the wall, just taking it all in. It would be humorous, I think, to someone outside looking in. The room is comically intense. Santana is so plainly furious. Jake is so obviously indignant. I get Santana's anger. I've told her as much. But what I don't tell her is my hesitation to hand over the rope to lynch the guy before we actually know what went wrong.

And even though I know Santana's beyond pissed, I'm not so sure it's solely at Jake. That's another thing I don't say.

"Why don't you tell us _exactly_ what happened," Santana says dangerously. Jake glances at Will. "Don't look at him. Look at me."

Jake slowly brings his eyes back to Santana and takes a deep breath. "I was on my way back. I had maps of updated locations and numbers. The informer said that all signs pointed to the entire Army pushing West. He outlined all he knew on the maps. Camps, sightings… anything." He glances at Will quickly. Santana snaps her fingers at him, and he looks back begrudgingly. "After he left, I headed back here. I was a few hours away when I saw them. And they saw me. I'm not sure how long they had been following me. They came out of nowhere. A dozen of them. I thought I lost them at one point. They were gone for five, maybe ten minutes? So I studied the maps. Tried to memorize as much as I could before I burned them." He stops and licks his lips. "But then they were back. I did what I could to outrun them, but they boxed me in. I took out four of them before they finally got ahold of me. I didn't think I could make it back here. But I was so close. I thought if I could just get here fast enough to warn everyone, we would have a chance. That we could take them out and I could get the information to you."

Santana lifts slightly from her chair and reaches for something in her back pants pocket. I watch curiously as she unfolds a map of the area and smacks it down on the table. "Put down everything you remember."

Blaine leans across the table to hand Jake a pen. I find it rather amusing how quickly Jake reaches out to snag the pen to redeem himself. We silently wait while he recreates what he can remember from the destroyed maps. Santana watches him like a hawk the whole time. After a few more moments, Jake finishes and puts down the pen.

Santana doesn't even look at him. She simply reaches out and snatches the map away again. She studies it carefully before handing it over to Will.

Blaine peers over his shoulder as Will eagerly examines the map. His eyes look to Santana almost immediately. "You were right. They're forming an arc."

An arc? I push myself off the wall and take a few steps towards the table, holding out my hand for the map. Will hands it to me. It doesn't take much to see the obvious path Jake's drawn. And to realize that we're sitting smack dab in the middle of a fairly clear net.

"The men you ran into? They were on special recon," I say. Not unlike what I was doing when I encountered Santana out West, I decide not to mention. They all look at me. Unlike my assignment, however, we had been given specific instructions not to engage. These men Jake ran into were given license to extract whatever they could, however they could. "You're lucky you got away. These guys would have done some pretty horrible things to get what they needed from you."

Jake shrugs. "I wouldn't have talked," he drawls arrogantly.

"Yes," I say. "You would've." He looks away.

"It's a good thing you destroyed those maps," Ryder mumbles.

I place the map on the table and take the pen, connecting the X's. "And this? This type of maneuver is what we always called a 'Flush'. You spread the net, like this. And then you advance. The teams in the middle push in while the edges curl around to encircle the target. Until there's nowhere for them left to go but backwards. You flush them out. Then you send every team in after them." I sigh. "Unfortunately, we won't know where the middle point is until it's too late."

"It's the same tactic the Militia used to take the East," Will says, running his hand through his hair.

"Every second we waste, Nero's getting closer to his next target," Blaine says. He looks more worried than I can remember seeing him any time recently.

I nod. "It means the General thinks he's ready to take the West."

Will leans forward and rests his palms on the table. "We need to pull the troops together."

"It's going to be difficult considering how many cities we have to hit to gather them all," Ryder says wearily. "The last time we were going to battle. This time we're going to war."

"They're in formation but that doesn't mean they're ready to move," Jake offers. "If I had to guess, I'd say they're still preparing. Getting ready. They wouldn't dare to push forward yet without additional intel. Or manpower," he adds. "The last battle hurt them pretty bad."

"They've had a month. They won't need much longer," I remind them all.

Santana stands from the table without saying a word. She bypasses her crutches and limps into the sitting room without looking at anyone.

Will looks like he wants to call out to her. I shake my head no. "I'll go," I say and follow her into the other room. By the time I get there, she's somehow already nose deep in maps. "What are you planning?" I ask softly.

She sighs deeply. "Well, he's not lying."

"No," I agree. "Jake's definitely not lying. This all makes perfect sense for them." When she doesn't say anything, I go and sit down on the table. Right on top of the maps she's staring at. "Santana, are you going to tell me what this is really about?" She looks at me but doesn't answer. Instead, she tugs at the maps underneath me. "I'm not disagreeing with you," I sigh and stand up so that she can put the maps back into a folder. "This is pretty serious. And I know you're pissed but…" I hesitate. "Santana. I don't think you're in any condition to travel," I blurt out.

"We don't have a choice, Quinn. We can't stay here. It's not safe anymore. The Militia are coming. You said so yourself!"

"_Nowhere_ is safe," I remind her. "The war is here. It's come to the West. And despite upgrading your cast, I still don't think you can handle a long distance walk. And I doubt you'll be comfortable on a horse for very - "

"I'll be fine," she snaps. Maps secured under her arm, she walks past me, back towards the dining room.

I am so irritated that she won't talk to me. I know how desperate the situation has become, but she's not thinking rationally. "Santana! Will you just stop and talk to me?"

She spins around and points outside. "Just now, with those men? We got lucky. Next time there might be fifty of them. Or a hundred. And sniping from the window won't be enough. I won't be able to protect you."

"You don't have to protect me," I tell her.

"Yes I do!" She stares at me for a moment, her expression slowly changing. Finally she swallows hard and shakes her head, looking away. "I did a shitty job of it before. I thought I was protecting you. I thought… I don't know what I thought. But now the entire fucking army is out there looking for you. And I can't fucking stop them."

I look at her for a moment putting together all the pieces. It's not just about the war. It's not just about the Militia coming after me, which has been painfully obvious to me for much longer than it has been to anyone else. No. This is about her. Her guilt. For what she thinks she did… to me. "And Arlington is where you think I'll be safe?"

"For now, yes," she says, lowering her voice. "We can figure out the rest from there."

She looks so… ashamed. So small and embarrassed. I don't ever want her to feel that way when it comes to me. I know I share some of the blame for that. I definitely laid a pretty massive guilt trip on her. I all but told her that I didn't trust her when it came to keeping me safe.

And even though I'm still angry, deep down I do know that she did what she thought she had to do in order to protect me. To protect all of us. More than anything else I'm just so terrified of losing her again. But I know she's trying. I know she's doing what she thinks is best for me. For everyone.

So despite the risk, despite the danger, I need her to know that I do trust her. And that I'm on her side. "Then we go to Arlington," I tell her. She looks at me, surprised. "But how are you going to get there? It's what? At least five days travel on foot?"

Something in her expression changes entirely at something I've said. She's staring at me, but she has that same old far away look she gets when she's running through scenarios in her head. "On foot..." she repeats. Half a beat later, her eyes snap back into focus. "That's it."

I'm confused. "What? What did I say?"

"We have to get to Arlington," Santana says limping back into the other room.

The hushed conversations stop at once. Ryder glances at me curiously. I just shrug. He turns to Santana for answers I don't have. "Why Arlington? Why not the tunnels?"

I can see Santana stiffen. "No," she says firmly. "No tunnels."

"They are definitely closing in," I say, breaking the awkward silence that hangs after her refusal. "That was just one recon party. And as cliché as it sounds, where there's one, there's many."

"We have to move quickly before this all changes," Blaine agrees.

"So we go to Arlington," Will says with obvious reluctance.

"We need to get word to Kurt and Rachel and the others and let them know what's going on. I don't want to risk them staying in that town while the Militia pushes West. They need to get out now. They can meet us in Arlington." Will starts to protest but Santana shakes her head. "By the time we get to Arlington, word will get out that I'm alive anyway. We might as well tell them now."

I look around the room. Ryder, Jake and Marley all look hesitant. "Does anyone else have any other suggestions?" I ask.

Marley is the only one to speak up. "If there are so many of them, how will we get there without being seen if we travel on foot?"

"Well, we best travel only at night," Blaine says.

Ryder lets out a heavy sigh. "That will take twice as long."

"Not if we go see Madam first," Santana says. My eyes fall to her having no idea what she's talking about. From the looks of it, I'm the only one who is lost. Everyone else just looks surprised. "She's what? Half a day from here? If we leave at sundown, we should be there before midday tomorrow."

Will looks intrigued but doesn't seem convinced. "Do you think she would help us?"

Santana nods. "Yeah. I do."

It gets quiet again while everyone stops to let the idea sink in whereas I have no earthly idea who Madam is. "It's crazy but I think it's the best shot we've got," Ryder says first.

"Okay," Will says. "Then we'll go pay Madam a visit."

It's amazing, but for once it looks like they all agree on something. Santana seems to notice this as well. She spills the maps out on the dining room table quickly. "Now we just need to figure out the best way to get there."


	4. Chapter 4

**QUINN'S POV**

Santana presses herself closer against my back, her face nuzzling into the crook of my neck. Her grip tightens around my waist. Even with the bumps in the road, I can feel her shuddering from the cold.

The snow has died down to a soft flurry, but the temperature continues to drop with every mile we travel. I'm taking the brunt of the wind but I don't mind. Not if it helps Santana stay even the slightest bit warmer. There isn't much to her beyond her skin and bones. She's lost a lot of weight being in that coma. And despite her multiple layers, I know she must be freezing.

I hear her groan as the horse crosses over a particularly rocky patch of terrain. This was such a stupid idea. She shouldn't be traveling like this as depleted as she is.

But it's too late now.

I slow Storm to a trot and call out to the others. "I think we should stop." Ryder turns first and calls out to the rest of the group, nodding towards me. When they all circle around, I pull down the scarf over my mouth to address them. "Let's stop for a bit. Drink and eat something. Rest."

"I'm fine," Santana protests.

"_You_ might be, but I'm not," I say, looking back over my shoulder. "I could use something to eat. And lord knows the horses could use a break."

"Let's get to the tree line. It might block some of the wind," Ryder suggests.

We dismount and pull the horses to the trees nearby. Will immediately goes to collect wood for a fire while Jake helps Marley with the horses, covering them temporarily with blankets and pulling apples out to feed them.

I bite my tongue when I see Santana wince as she lowers herself carefully down from the horse. I unfasten her crutches from the side of the horse and hand them to her. She takes them without protest.

I grab our bag of food and our blankets and follow her over to the tree line. I spread one of the blankets on the ground and wait until Santana is seated and settled before wrapping the other blanket around her shoulders. She looks up at me gratefully and I offer her a small smile before helping Will find some dry kindling.

The fire crackles and roars to life. I let out a small sigh of relief as the warmth of the flames fan over me. It feels like days since we started out on the road despite it only being a couple of hours. I'm completely frozen. The others settle around the fire, each pulling blankets over themselves and extending their hands towards the flames to warm them.

Marley comes over to hand Santana a few pills, which Santana gulps down eagerly. I hand her a canteen and she chases the pills with a long, desperate gulp of water.

She looks up at me and opens her arms wide, inviting me underneath of her blanket. I sit beside her and sigh as she pulls me into her side and wraps her arm and blanket over my shoulders. "Are you okay?" I ask her quietly.

"Yeah," she says with a small smile. "Just cold."

"I can't wait to sleep in those beds," Jake says with a groan as he leans back against a tree, holding his hand to his injured side.

"Those beds," Ryder agrees with a moan.

Santana hums in agreement while the others nod.

I turn to look at Santana at but she's staring at the flames, lost in thought. "The beds?" I ask curiously. The others exchange looks and smiles but no one bothers to elaborate. "Okay, will someone please tell me what the hell is going on? Who is Madam? And why does she have such nice beds?"

"I'll get more sticks for the fire," Will says suddenly standing and wandering away from the group.

Blaine wraps his blanket around his shoulders and stands. "I'll do what I can to help, Mr. Baggins."

It is not lost on me that my question is being avoided, which is annoying to say the least. When I look over at Santana, she seems to be avoiding my gaze.

Strangely enough, it's Marley who finally answers. "Madam is someone who takes in girls who have nowhere to go. She gives them a place to live. Some of them are injured; others are wandering around with no family. No place of their own. Most of them have skills to offer as contribution. Cooks, chemists, carpenters, caretakers. Madam has a working farm, a small trading post… They're pretty self sufficient."

My eyes flick to Santana who's trying very hard to stifle her smile. "So it's like a refuge?"

Marley shifts closer to Jake. "In a way," she says a bit hesitantly.

I look to Ryder, who laughs. "Travelers are welcome to stop by for a night or two as long as they aren't hostile. No weapons are allowed on the grounds unless they belong to the girls or Madam let's you keep them. Which she rarely does."

"And being an all girl premises…" Jake adds with a smile.

"The girls tend to get a little lonely," Ryder finishes.

"…It's a whore house?" I ask, immediately aware of how dumb it sounds.

Jake chuckles but stops when Marley reaches out to smack him. "They don't really -"

"Yes," Santana interjects simply.

"I think 'brothel' is the appropriate term," Will chimes in as he makes his way back over with a small bundle of twigs.

"What's the difference?" I ask incredulously. "And you've all heard of this place?"

Jake shrugs like it's not a big deal. "Everyone around here knows about Madam and the girls."

"So you've all been there?"

"I haven't," Marley says defensively.

Will, Blaine and Ryder all hold the same guilty expression. Marley looks particularly offended, but Jake and Santana look downright nostalgic. I elbow Santana in the ribs as I turn to shoot her a look. She lets out a small grunt and I'm momentarily satisfied as her smug look disappears. My frustration somewhat satisfied for the moment, I go back to the original topic. "How the hell is a _brothel_ going to help us?"

Santana pulls me closer and drops a kiss on my forehead. "You'll see," she says, her mischievous smile returning.

* * *

The sun peeks up brilliantly over the horizon to our left. "That's the brothel?" I ask, looking at the large brick building several hundred yards away.

"It's more of a compound," Marley corrects in her usual gentle way.

I roll my eyes. "They have sex with people who come through. You said it yourself, it's a brothel."

Ryder chuckles. "They only sleep with people if they want to. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you're offering. If they say no, they mean no."

I give him a pointed look. "Have you ever been there and not had sex?"

He blushes instantly. "Well… no."

"Uh huh."

Will brings his horse up beside us. "How do you want to approach?"

There's nothing more than a six-foot chain link fence surrounding what looks like an old brick factory, complete with large smokestacks. "It doesn't look that protected. Why don't we just jump the fence?"

Santana shakes her head. "Because there are bombs buried under the ground beyond the fence line. One wrong step..." She doesn't have to finish her explanation. Santana reaches around me for the reins and kicks the sides of Storm, spurring her on.

I stare at the building in front of us as we approach and wonder why I had never heard of this place. It seems to be quite the popular spot.

I also wonder why a whorehouse needs to be as protected as this one is. I understand keeping predators at bay and making a statement but are the women within that memorable and attractive that they need bombs within their perimeter?

And not for the first time since I learned about this place, I try hard not to think about Santana and the girls behind those walls. How many did she sleep with? And how the hell can they help?

"Alright, everyone slow down," Will says, pulling his horse to a stop.

Santana pushes Storm closer until we are in front of the group. She unlatches her crutches from the side of the saddle and manages to dismount, albeit awkwardly, without any help. Ryder and Blaine also dismount.

"Be ready to flee," Santana says to the rest of us. "For all we know they've installed Gatling guns in each window."

I glance at the windows of the building and rest my hand on my pistol as I curiously watch Santana take slow, careful steps towards the fence.

"So now what?" I ask impatiently. "If they were going to open fire, wouldn't they have done it by now?"

Ryder holds up his hand and shushes me. I almost tell him how incredibly rude I think he's being considering how ridiculous they are all being when he cocks his head to the side as if he he's listening for something in particular. He turns to Santana. "You hear that?"

We all hold perfectly skill. It takes a few moments, but I eventually catch a low, whisper-quiet humming. "So hum a merry tune," Blaine says after a moment.

Santana hands me her crutches. "The fence is on," she says, limping towards it.

Now Will dismounts and pulls his pistol. "Think they've had any trouble?"

"With all the Militia wandering around? More than likely," Santana says idly as she stops at an intercom near the gated entrance. After exchanging glances with Ryder and Will, she flips up the cover of a small box mounted on a post by the gate. She pounds the red button underneath with the side of her fist.

Nothing happens.

Several moments pass by where I notice the others shift and exchange nervous glances. I sigh, a bit irritated and increasingly confused. How long are we going to sit here?

A sudden burst of static comes from a small speaker that I hadn't even noticed mounted just above the gate switch.

_"State your business," _comes a woman's voice.

Santana pulls the scarf down from her face and presses the green button, leaning in closer to the intercom. "We're looking for boarding for a couple of days. And we want to meet with Madam."

_"Who's asking?"_

"Santana Lopez."

There's a slight pause from the other end. _"Bullshit. Santana's dead."_

My eyes go from the intercom to Santana. She doesn't miss a beat. "That was all a misunderstanding. I'm alive and right here."

_"Prove it,"_ the voice demands.

Santana pulls down her hood and the stocking cap from atop her head. She lowers herself so that she's eye level with the intercom and she waves. There must be a camera I can't see. "See? It's me."

There's a long pause. _"How do I know you're not a lookalike?"_

Santana's hand falls to her side and she stands up straight. "Are you shitting me?" she asks with considerable annoyance.

_"I most certainly am not." _

Santana turns towards the rest of us and throws her arms in the air, frustrated. "How the hell am I supposed to prove it?" she asks to no one in particular.

_"You claim you're Santana Lopez. Figure it out." _

And then the intercom cuts off.

Santana meets my eyes and I shrug. I don't even know where we are or what we're doing here. There's no way I can help her convince whoever the hell is on the other side of this fence that it's really her.

Santana continues to stare at me, her expression becoming even more determined the longer she looks at me. After another beat, she slips her hat back on her head and pulls up her scarf.

We watch curiously as she limps back over to the intercom. For a moment, I'm sure she's going to curse out the woman on the other side of the intercom. Instead, she drops to her knees and begins digging at the frozen ground beneath the gate.

When she's cleared away the snow, she reaches into her back pocket and pulls her knife. With concentrated swipes, she starts to hack at the ground. She never says a word to us and no one. I look from her to Blaine, hoping for some kind of explanation. Blaine just shakes his head and looks amused.

Again, I wait and watch as she alternates between digs and stabs. I'm about to say something or ask if she wants help with whatever it is she's doing, when she finally seems to find what it is she's looking for. There's a metal clanking sound. I lift myself higher on my horse and try to peer down at what she's doing. It appears to be a metal cover.

She jams her knife between the cracks of the metal plate and pushes it at an angle. She repeats this over and over again on all four sides of the plate until it finally gives. She removes the top of the buried compartment and places it beside her.

Removing her gloves, she blows warmth into her hands and rubs them together. Carefully she reaches down into the unearthed metal box.

I can't see what she's doing but her movements are slow and calculated. Finally she begins to nimbly pull components and wires out. I wonder how the hell it is that she knew that thing was buried below the ground there. After a moment, I suddenly realize that the humming sound has stopped. She stands and I notice a small silver cylinder in her hand.

She holds the cylinder out towards the camera. "Your fence is off and your bombs are defused. Do you want me to rewire them to explode at random or will you open the damn gate and let us in? I'm freezing my ass off out here!"

That's when it dawns on me – Santana knew where that box was and what it was put there for because _she_ had put it there. Just like the bombs she'd set and just like the fence she'd wired. She helped fortify this place.

The woman on the other end of the intercom laughs. _"Alright, alright, you proved your point. Put the damn thing back and I'll let you in."_

Santana easily reassembles the elements within, the fence humming once more. She replaces lid to the box and closes it off, pushing the grass, dirt and snow back over top of it. She shoves her gloves back on her hands and limps back towards me.

I extend my hand to help her back up onto the horse as the gate makes a loud clicking and slowly begins to open. "She seems nice," I say as Santana takes my hand.

* * *

**SANTANA'S POV**

The doors to the building open and we're greeted by six armed woman all flanking their Madam. "Weapons by the door," one of them instructs with her gun in our faces. We all dismount and begin collecting our weapons to place in a large chest by the front door.

Within a few feet, four more women rush out from the brick building and offer to lead our horses to stable.

"Let them keep their pistols. They've earned it," comes a booming voice from our right. Dressed in an incredibly short black dress, Madam walks over to me, a huge ass grin on her face. I know instantly that I was just played. "Well I'll be damned. It is you," she says with a laugh.

I pull my scarf down from my face and roll my eyes. "Oh, please. You _knew_ it was me."

She shrugs casually and motions to the girls beside her. "You know I had to be sure. I couldn't go putting my girls in danger."

"You just like messing with me," I remind her.

"That too," she laughs.

I pull the hat from my head and watch as her armed guards begin quickly removing the bags from our horses before they're taken away. Quinn barely has time to grab my crutches. "What are you doing sitting by the door anyway? Are you that bored around here that you're personally screening visitors?"

Her smile fades under a heavy sigh. "With all the Militia around causing trouble, I've made it my business to personally check out any unscheduled visitors who happen to stop by. And you were definitely unscheduled." She looks over my group. "Well, now, I see some familiar faces," she muses. She notices Quinn for the first time. "And a few new ones." She doesn't linger long, but I can tell she's sized Quinn up already. Then she notices Blaine. "And some furry ones. Blaine is that you under all that hair?"

"At your service, Madam," Blaine says, bowing his head. She beams at him.

Her eyes fall on Will. "Hello, Will."

"Madam," he says, also bowing his head with a smile.

Quinn shifts beside me and I motion towards her and then the others. "This is Quinn, Marley, Jake and Ryder."

She nods her head at them and then leers at Jake and Ryder. "I remember you boys. Couldn't get enough?"

"Something like that," Ryder says with a blush.

"You all are soaking wet. How long have you been traveling?" she asks with concern.

"All night," I tell her with a sigh.

She looks at me quizzically for a moment, her face going serious. "I have a feeling this unexpected visit is for business and not pleasure." I say nothing. She understands. "Well, let's get you some food and out of those wet clothes and into a warm bath and a nice bed. We can talk business after you've rested."

The sound of food, a bath and sleep makes me realize just how utterly exhausted I really am. "Thanks, Mercedes," I tell her sincerely.

She nods and smiles kindly. "Don't mention it." She turns to the remaining girls beside her. "Girls, make sure the baths are ready and that they all get our best rooms. Bring up something to eat and make sure they're taken care of." She looks back at the rest of us and nods towards my leg. "With that bum leg of yours I think you need one of our special accommodations," she says winking. "I have other business to attend to, but I'll find you later on. You can tell me how you came back from the dead." I nod and give her a small smile, noticing Quinn shift uncomfortably beside me. "And please, the rest of you call me Mercedes. Any friend of Santana's is a friend of mine."

* * *

I can't help but smile when we're led into our room. Our escort drops our bags by the door and flashes me a smile and a wink. "Enjoy," she purrs and slips out into the hallway.

I'm amused to see the stunned look on Quinn's face as she takes in the accommodations. Hell, I've been here before and even _I'm_ surprised to find that it's even more lavish than I remembered.

The hardwood floors are dark and spotless. There's a ridiculously large four-poster against the back wall. I almost groan as my eyes fall to the puffy, white down comforter and large pillows. The bed looks just as inviting as it had the last time I was here.

In the corner beside the bed is a standing wash bin beside a white, wing-backed chair. On the other side of the chair is a small table with freshly folded towels resting atop. A large red-patterned area rug rests beneath a round wooden table with two matching cushioned woodened chairs on either side. In the center of the table is a bottle of red wine and a plate of fruit. On the wall adjacent to the bed, a fire roars in the largest white-columned fireplace I have ever seen. Light spills into the room from the floor to ceiling bay window and a sitting bench is nestled comfortably within the windowsill. The last wall holds a large bookcase complete with the spattering of novels and a large wardrobe for guests to use for their belongings.

"This room is insane," Quinn finally says after allowing herself to take everything in.

"Wait until you see the bath," I smirk as I limp towards the table and chairs.

"You really should use your crutches," Quinn scolds. I ignore her as I pull one of the chairs closer to the fire and plop down with a loud sigh. "I mean this is more than even the upper class would experience back East," she continues as she makes a slow circle around the large room.

I slip out of my jacket and toss the garment towards the fire to attempt to get it dry. "You weren't upper class?"

"Hardly. I mean my dad was, yes, but my mother and I? We rarely saw places as extravagant as this," she says, staring at the large bed. "I think I stayed in fancy places two or three times growing up. Granted, I was in training most of my life and my mother was expected to stay at home at all times, so…" She reaches out to lightly touch the comforter. "How did I not know about this place?"

"Most of the Militia doesn't. It's the Midwest's best kept secret," I tell her as I untie the laces on my boot.

"I just don't understand. How can this place stay maintained like this?"

"It's been this way since long before Mercedes took over for her grandma," I tell her without getting into the history of the compound. I toss my boot to the side and look down at my busted leg. "You'd be surprised what people would give to stay in a place like this and a chance to be with some of these girls."

Quinn turns from the bed and looks at me curiously. "What did you give? Besides the bombs you buried in their fields."

I meet her eyes but before I can answer someone knocks hesitantly on the door.

Quinn opens the door to reveal Ryder standing there awkwardly. He glances over her shoulder at me. I sit up in my chair, about ready to tell him to go the hell away when he breaks the eye contact and looks at Quinn. "Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure." She doesn't even hesitate. I clench my teeth as she glances back at me before following him out of the room.

I untie the small towel wrapped around my walking cast and toss it angrily across the room. I undo the walking boot over my cast and throw it against the mantle, watching as it bounces off and lands with a thud. Taking a deep breath, I sit back in my chair with a huff.

What the hell is he doing showing up to our room like that? He couldn't wait until after we've all gotten some sleep? And why's he pulling Quinn aside to talk to her privately? And Quinn! Quinn just went with him! Why would she do that?

I run my hand through my hair angrily, deciding how I want to handle this. I'm done being rational; this is just weird. Too strange to just brush aside. Finally, I decide enough's enough. I push myself up and ready myself to hop out into the hallway and demand to know what the big secret is. And what it is that's so important that it couldn't wait until later. But just as I start to move, the door opens and Quinn walks back in, casual as can be.

I watch expectantly as she takes off her coat and drapes it across the storage trunk at the foot of the bed. When she says nothing, I pipe up. "So what was that all about?"

She sits down on the trunk and begins to untie her boots. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" I ask with a snort. "You two seem awfully chummy."

She looks up at me, amused. "Chummy?"

"Yeah, always sneaking off together." My tone has more bite than I intended. Not that I'm not angry. I absolutely am.

"We aren't _sneaking_ anywhere," she says, rolling her eyes. "Are you seriously jealous?"

"Of him?" I scoff. There's no way in hell I'm jealous of Ryder. Okay, maybe I'm jealous of Quinn wanting to spend time with Ryder, but I'm certainly not jealous _of_ Ryder. "I just think it's odd," I add with as casual a shrug as I can muster.

Quinn slips off her boots and looks at me. "Why?"

"You barely know each other and yet you're practically joined at the hip," I blurt.

I can tell instantly that I've touched a nerve. Her face gets all screwed up and she shoots me a positively offended look. "We aren't attached at the hip, Santana. But sometimes we do have conversations. He's been a good friend. You know, something I lost all of when I left the Militia?"

"You have me," I remind her.

"Then you left."

Ouch.

"Are you going to throw that in my face every time we argue?" I shout.

Quinn sighs and rubs tiredly at her eyes. "I just don't have many people on my side right now. You have Blaine and Will and Rachel and Puck and Mike and Tina and Kurt and Brittany…"

"I get it," I interrupt. My shoulders seem to slump and I let out a long, defeated breath. "I just don't like the way he looks at you," I finally admit.

She stands from the chest and walks towards me, her own expression softening. "We're just friends," she assures me. "Okay?" I nod and look at her, watching as her lips curl upwards into a smile. "Now… you said something about a bath?"

* * *

**QUINN'S POV**

The warmth of the room hits me first. The aroma follows. The air is thick with the smell of perfume and oils. Then I see it. In the middle of the dark-tiled floor, surrounded by dozens of candles and lanterns – The largest bath I have ever seen. Frankly, I'm not sure you could even call it a bath. Heated pool, maybe.

It appears to be about twenty-four feet long and twelve feet wide. I can see the steam radiating off the top of the water. I'm moving towards the waters in an almost trance-like state before I even realize it.

Did I fall asleep? This can't be real. "Seriously?" I ask. "This is how they bathe?"

Santana sits down on a bench against the wall and pushes aside the white fluffy towels so she can prop up her leg. "Daily? I don't think so. But when they want to impress their guests…"

"Well consider me impressed." I crouch down closer to the water and peer inside. The room has no windows, and despite all the candles and lanterns already lit and spread out throughout, it's still relatively dark inside. The water is even darker. It has an ominous look about it. I extend my hand and let my fingertips trace ripples across the surface.

"It's so warm," I say in awe. Despite seeing the steam and feeling the thick, muggy, humidity in the room, I somehow thought the water would be lukewarm at best. It just seems too big of a space to heat consistently.

Santana pulls her sweatshirt off and tosses it aside carelessly. "They have heating coils or heated plates. Or something. And they regularly dump in boiling water to keep it fairly warm."

My eyes fall back to the water. "How often do they change the water?"

"Pretty often actually."

"They've got to be changing the water once every couple hours to keep it this heated," I wonder aloud. "Do the others have a bath like this?" I ask in wonder.

"Probably not," she says, examining one of the bars of soap. She tosses the soap into the water with a "splunk!" that reverberates throughout.

"So we're the only ones with one of these?"

"This size, yeah. But there are a couple smaller ones throughout," Santana says as she pulls her long-sleeved shirt over her head. She tosses this on top of her discarded sweatshirt.

I scan the edges noticing how spotless everything is. "How often do they clean this?"

"Quinn, just get in the water," Santana says with an amused sigh.

I roll my eyes at her impatience but begin taking off my clothes nonetheless. I leave them far enough away from the edge of the "tub" to stay dry. There are no stairs, but there's a metal ladder on the other side of the edge. This further cements my belief that this is more pool than bath. Eschewing the ladder, I choose to slowly slide in from the side instead.

I can't help but moan as the warm water swallows me. The depth of the water surprises me; without being able to see to the bottom, I didn't expect to sink as far as I am. When my feet finally find the slick floor, the water level reaches just above my breasts. I walk around a bit, realizing it's the same depth all the way throughout.

I duck down until only my head peaks above the surface. "Oh my God, this is amazing," I moan. "Why aren't more people falling over themselves to live here? Comfortable beds, lavish baths…"

Santana shrugs and begins tugging off her pants. "People don't want to leave their families. Their homes. They have no skills to offer. It's too lavish. They don't want to adhere to the rules here. Mercedes won't let them beyond the gates. They want to keep fighting in the war. Lots of reasons, I guess."

I'm not buying it. So far, this place is nothing short of paradise. "Your logic is flawed," I tell her pointedly.

She shoots me another irritated look and tosses me washcloth. "Do you really want to think about all of that right now?"

I watch as the cloth lands on the water just out of my reach. "I suppose not," I say, letting the topic slide. My toe gently kicks the bar of soap Santana tossed in earlier. I dive down under the surface and grope along blindly until I feel it's slippery edge. The weightlessness combined with the radiating warmth I feel persuade me to take my time in surfacing. I stay under until my lungs burn, too impossibly content to rush. Finally, I stand back up, take a deep breath and lie back until I'm floating. This is incredible.

I take several deep breaths until I am completely relaxed and then roll to my stomach and wade slowly to the edge, grabbing the washcloth in my other hand. I place them on the edge and push my hair back from my face. Placing my forearms on the edge of the tub, I rest my chin comfortably on top of my hands. I release another loud moan as my eyes fall closed. My entire body suddenly feels free of tension as the warm water envelopes me.

I hear the water audibly displace and realize that Santana is now in the water as well. A moment later, I'm startled to feel Santana's hands run across my stomach. My eyes snap open. "What are you doing?" I ask as I try and turn to face her. But her arms wrap around me tightly and she presses herself against my back. "You aren't supposed to get your cast wet," I remind her.

"Marley can replace it," she says before dragging her lips across the back of my shoulder.

"Did she bring the materials to do that?" I tilt my head to the side as her lips travel up the length of my neck.

"Don't really care," she mumbles.

"Santana…" But my lecture falls short as her hands find my breasts. I let my head fall back and close my eyes.

She bites lightly on my ear. "You better hold on," she whispers.

I do as she says and press my palms flat on the tile as her hand works its way down between my legs. And just like that I'm made aware that it really is possible to feel even more incredible than I did two minutes ago.

"Oh my God," I exhale when I feel her finger push inside me. She teases me even further by pinching my nipple with her free hand. I can feel the press of her palm against my abdomen, putting pressure against me as she works herself in and out with a steady rhythm.

My knees begin to shake as she picks up her pace. I can feel her breasts drag up and down my back as she works up and down. I grip the edge of the pool tightly and spread my legs apart further to let Santana in further. I can hear my own moans echo back off the walls.

I reach my hand blindly behind me and grab at the back of her thigh, trying to pull her even closer. This elicits a throaty purr from behind me. She picks up the pace of her thrusts. Her other hand leaves my chest to slide down and begin to flit and rub my clit. "Santana," I gasp breathlessly as I feel myself begin to slowly come undone. "Don't stop."

I feel her lips drag across the back of my neck, her breath hot. "You're so beautiful, Q," she mumbles against my skin. "I need you to let go for me."

I push back against her and squeeze my eyes shut as she increases the speed of her movements. My entire world seems to go white with a feeling I can't even begin to describe. Santana surprises me again by biting my earlobe as she fucks me faster and faster.

It isn't long after that my body shudders and my head falls forward. It's hard and fast and I ride out my orgasm until I have no energy left and I feel my body go limp in her arms.

Santana nuzzles the side of my neck with her nose and kisses the side of my jaw. I relax and allow myself to float weightlessly in her arms until I gain some energy. I fight back a yawn.

I turn around in her arms and am met with a satisfied smile. It never ceases to amazing me how her crooked smile always makes my heart skip a beat. I slide my arms around her neck and pull her towards me. Leaning in, I finally kiss her, sighing as her tongue slides along mine.

She pushes herself forward, pinning me back against the wall of the tub. My hands slide down her sides, tracing every curve on the way to her waist. When I pull her hips towards me, she tilts her torso back a little and hooks her good leg around my waist.

I leave one hand on her waist as my other drags down to between her legs, eager to return the favor. I grin when I hear her moan as my hand brushes across her center. I tease her by rubbing everywhere but exactly where she wants me to, stoking her moans even louder. The longer I tease, the more desperate her thrusts on my hand become.

But I don't tease her for long. I can't. I want her too badly.

I lean in and kiss her hard, my tongue searching. As I do, I slide into her slowly. She groans into my mouth. I press my forehead to hers and let her continue to moan against my lips as I pick up my own pace.

She uses one hand to steady herself and the other to grab and squeeze my ass. She rides and begins to match my own thrusts by raising and lowering her hips onto my fingers. I'm careful to take it as easy as I can on her. I don't want her to get so wrapped up that she further hurts her leg.

I reach out and cup the back of her neck, leaning in to drop kisses on her mouth. Her breathing comes in short, desperate bursts and I press my lips to her chin and jaw. "I've got you," I tell her between kisses. "I've got you."

She comes undone faster than I expect. She calls out into the room as she comes, her head thrown back and eyes closed. She looks absolutely beautiful.

My fingers slow inside of her until her breathing steadies. Her head falls forward and she looks absolutely spent.

I push the hair from her face and lean in to kiss her forehead. She lifts her head and looks at me with her same charming, crooked smile. "I'm exhausted," she says breathlessly.

I take her face in my hands and run my thumbs across her lips. There are heavy bags under her eyes making her look fragile and somewhat sickly. I'm reminded of all she's been through and how much healing her body still has left to do. "I know you are," I tell her softly. "I am too." She looks at me and I lean in to kiss her again. It's hard to stop. "Let's finish up and get you some food," I finally say, reaching behind me for the soap and washcloth. "Turn around. I'll wash your back,"

* * *

I scoop up the last of my clothes and give Santana another look, wishing she'd let me carry her clothes too.

"I've got it," she assures, knowing exactly what I'm thinking.

She tightens her towel wrapped tightly around her body and bends over, awkwardly collecting her own clothes. My eyes fall to her cast – her very wet cast – and I shake my head. "How does it feel?"

She stands and flicks her hair from her face. "Wet," she says with a mischievous smile.

I roll my eyes and walk towards the door. "Come on, let's get back to the room and then I'll go find Marley."

Santana doesn't argue as she limps behind me until we get to the door. I pull it open and motion for her to lead. She flashes a tired smile and hobbles out the door and into the hall. I follow closely behind her.

"Well, holy shit, the girls weren't lying."

I almost run straight into Santana's back as she comes to a sudden halt. I shoot Santana an irritated look and then turn towards the girl standing in front of us.

"Santana Lopez," the girl with pink hair chuckles. Her hands are on her hips and she appears beyond amused.

"Dani," Santana says, sounding startled.

I look from Dani to Santana and back again, my brow lifting curiously as they stare at each other. Her outfit is tightly fitted, showing off her curves, complete with a low-cut top and plunging neckline that directly centers all attention on her chest.

"I heard you were dead," she says in an almost challenging voice.

Santana readjusts the clothes in her arms and pushes the hair from her face. "I was…"

Dani's eyes lower and she slowly rakes her gaze up and down Santana's towel-clad body. "You look pretty good for being dead."

Santana lets out a noise that I've never heard come from her before. It's a cross between a chuckle and a squeal. I look at her in surprise. I'm not exactly sure I ever want to hear that sound come from her again. There's a touch of color on her cheeks and she looks almost… bashful. "And you look amazing," she manages to say. I catch her looking down at Dani's ample chest and roll my eyes.

Dani puts her hands on her hips as if to showcase the girls and looks down at herself proudly. "Yeah, I've grown up a little since the last time you saw me."

"Yeah, you have," Santana says, not even bothering to hide her obvious ogling. I roll my eyes and clear my throat, done with seeing this sexual tension play out any further. Santana whips around as if I've just surprised her. "Oh! Um, Dani this is Quinn," she recovers enough to introduce me. "Quinn this is Dani."

Dani's eyes meet mine and her smile grows. "It's nice to meet you," she says, extending her hand.

I shift my clothes under one arm and reach out to shake her hand. "Nice to meet you too," I say warily.

My shirt falls to the floor and Santana falls over herself to try and get it for me, dropping all of her clothes and almost losing her cover in the process. Santana quickly grabs her towel, holding it tightly to her. Dani lets out a loud laugh. "Would you relax? It's nothing I haven't seen before," she reminds Santana with a smirk.

"Uh…I just… you know," Santana stutters, fumbling over her words awkwardly.

It's not that I'm surprised to hear they've slept together. I'm a big girl; I can tell what's going on. It's not hard to tell from Santana's body language that there's a history between the two. But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit here and let this girl mark her territory like Santana's some sexual claim of hers.

"We need to find Marley," I interject.

Dani laughs again and shakes her head. "Well, I'll let you two go. Come find me after you're all rested," she purrs.

Santana chuckles nervously and I watch as Dani passes by with an impressive sway to her hips. Santana doesn't even bother turning to watch her leave as she hurriedly tries to collect her spilled clothing. "Are we going to run into women that you've slept with everywhere we go?"

"I don't sleep with people everywhere I go!" Santana protests as she scoops up the last of her clothes. "I didn't sleep with Marley," she says pointedly. I roll my eyes and make my way to our room. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous!" I say, turning the handle to our room and stepping inside. "She has pink hair," I say, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

"When I met her it was blue," Santana says as she passes by me and into the room with a smirk.

I purse my lips and close the door behind her. "I see."

Santana dumps her clothes on the chair by the bed and sighs. "Dani is great. She may be a flirt but she has a big heart. Just give her a chance," she pleads. I say nothing as I try not to picture Santana having sex with the pink-haired girl. Santana goes to our clothes duffle and unzips it, rummaging around for something clean to wear. "When we were fifteen, she built this amazing semi-automatic assault rifle from spare parts. I mean, it was incredible. She has the most talented hands."

I let out a frustrated groan and shove her out of the way so I can dig through the duffle for my clothes. She laughs at my tantrum. "That is _not_ what I meant," she halfheartedly protests.

I glare at her as I pull out a clean shirt and pants.

* * *

**SANTANA'S POV**

"You are so lucky I brought all of this and Mercedes let me use some of her supplies," Marley lectures as she carefully trims the excess plaster at the bottom of my cast to make sure I can still move my toes.

"I know, you're way too good to me," I tell her apologetically.

Marley lifts her eyes to give me what I can only describe as her best attempt at a stern look. "I mean, I told you not to get it wet."

"I slipped," I tell her innocently.

Marley glances at Quinn sitting at the table, slowly eating her lunch, pretending to ignore us. "Uh huh," she says, knowing exactly what happened. "I'm going to run out of plaster if you keep disregarding what I tell you."

I sigh. "I know, I know."

She removes her latex gloves and reaches in her pocket to hand me a bottle of medicine. "Here are some more pills. Your leg must be killing you. What with all of your recent activities and all." I take them gratefully, not bothering to respond to her teasing smirk. "Let this dry before crawling into bed."

I nod and watch as she starts to clean up. "Hey," I say, reaching out to stop her. "I'll clean up. You go rest." She looks at me for a moment and nods. "And thank you," I tell her as she makes her way to the door.

I pick up my crutches and make my way over to join Quinn at the table. I let out a loud groan as I plop down into the chair next to her. "Everything hurts." My eyes burn from lack of sleep and my body screams at me in protest. "I just want to sleep," I whine.

Quinn pulls a piece of bread from the loaf and pops it in her mouth with a shrug. "As soon as your cast dries, you can."

My eyes narrow as I regard her carefully. She's still very clearly mad at me. I reach over and snatch the loaf of bread from her playfully. "Are you still jealous of Dani?"

Her head whips up and she glares at me. "I'm not jealous!"

I can't help the smirk that suddenly appears. "Okay," I say, deciding it wise to knock off the teasing for awhile. She stares at me for a beat and then turns towards her food, pushing it around her plate with a scowl. I place my hand on the table and stretch it towards her. "Hey," I say gently, my fingertips grazing her arm. I wait until she lifts her eyes to mine. "I love you."

The anger appears to melt away from her features, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. "I love you too," she sighs.

* * *

I'm fairly certain I'm asleep before my head even hits the pillow. I don't remember a time where I've ever been this tired. I was utterly exhausted.

I'm still dead tired. I feel groggy incoherent and I wonder what has woken me.

Suddenly feel warm hands travelling up my shirt and soft kisses trailing up the side of my neck.

I take a deep breath and slowly open my eyes as my hands immediately seek out the lithe body straddling my waist. "Quinn," I mutter sleepily. She hums in response but doesn't stop, instead choosing to bite down on the side of my neck.

My eyes snap open at the sharp pain from her teeth and I shift underneath of her, my hands falling to her waist, my fingers digging into her skin. She licks lightly at my neck, dropping a wet kiss between light strokes of her tongue before her teeth graze over my skin.

I slip my hands up the back of her shirt, pressing my fingers into her back and pulling her down towards me. I feel her smile against my neck as her own hands wander up my shirt, her fingers dancing lightly across my breasts.

I turn my head to the side, exposing more of my neck to her and moan, pressing my hands flat against her warm skin.

I'm curious where this behavior is coming from. Not that I'm complaining but Quinn was still a little irritated with me when we climbed into bed. Is this how she deals with jealousy? This is a fun little trait I'm learning, if so. Lifting my hips, I try desperately to get some sort of friction.

But the moment is interrupted when someone knocks loudly on our door. Quinn's lips pause on my neck.

"Rise and shine, Sir Snoozola," Blaine calls out from the hallway.

I groan, frustrated at the intrusion. "Go away!" I yell towards the closed door.

But he doesn't go away. In fact, instead of leaving, he opens the door and pops his curly mop head into the room. "Honey, come on. Food's ready," he says cheerily.

Quinn glances at him over her shoulder and, with a sigh, removes her hands from under my shirt and rolls off of me. I sit up, annoyed and frustrated. "I don't want food, Blaine," I say pointedly. "I'm in the _middle of something_," I hiss through my clenched teeth and nod my head to Quinn lying beside me.

Blaine shrugs, seemingly un-phased over interrupting. To make matters worse, the door opens wider and a girl I've never seen before sticks her head in the room too. "She's almost ready for you," she says with a smile.

I groan loudly and fall back on the mattress, worked up and knowing that getting back to that will have to wait. "Fine," I say, defeated. "We'll be right out."

I shoo them away with a wave. Quinn reaches out and runs her finger along the side of my neck. I sigh, although more in frustration than anything else. "Well, I guess now you're about to find out why this place is so important and why we came here."

Quinn sits up and leans over me, dropping a chaste kiss on my lips, a satisfied expression on her her face. "Finally," she says and smiles. She pushes the comforter away from her and slips out of bed. I don't follow, deciding instead to bury myself in the covers where I can dramatically snort in displeasure.

"Come on," she says, tossing a pair of pants on top of me with a chuckle. "It's already getting dark outside. If we sleep any longer we won't want to sleep tonight."

I pull the blanket off of my head and smile. "So? I can think of plenty of other things I'd rather do than sleep." Quinn rolls her eyes and pulls on a pair of jeans just as there's another knock on the door. "We're coming!" I yell impatiently. "Jeez, can you give us time to get dressed?"

But there is no answer from the other side of the door. Just more knocking. I start to tell them to fuck off when Quinn holds up her hand to quiet me. "Be nice," she laughs. She heads to the door and opens it.

"Who is it?" I ask annoyed.

Quinn looks at me over her shoulder. "It's Ryder," she says softly.

My body immediately tenses. "Are you kidding me?" This is the second time since we've been here that he's interrupted. I watch as Quinn walks towards the fireplace and grab her boots. "Where are you going?"

"I'll meet you out there," she says hesitantly as she slips on her boots.

"Quinn," I call out.

But she's already closing the door behind her.

* * *

**I am so sorry about how long this update has taken me! If you're still reading then I want to say thank you so much for sticking with it. And thank you Shiela for the nudge to get me back on track and working on this. It's not that I've lost interest, I've just been very busy these days. In fact, this chapter originally had much more content but I ended up splitting it into two chapters (otherwise the update would've taken even longer!) Hopefully the next update won't take as long!**


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